Ghosts
by Spyder2
Summary: Can the death of an innocent bystander mean the end for the alliance? (Chapter 16: 'PsyOps' added)
1. First moves

**Ghosts **

** First moves**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
This is my first publicly displayed bit of fiction, but is not the first I've written and I know there's always room for improvement.  
Originally, this was going to be used as part of an English Lit piece I've been working on for some time, but I got a bit bored with it, so I tried to mould it into an Alias fic. The success of this hybrid will only become apparent with reviews and comments, so please R&R.

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

It had been agreed, and agreed upon unanimously by the heads of department.

The Alliance would have to face their wrath.

Their latest incursion by an operative of SD-9, had nearly cost them everything, and they couldn't allow anyone to get that close again.

And so, they authorised the deployment and full tactical usage of their military wing against the enemy, combining over two hundred and fifty highly skilled tactical operatives, equipped with an arsenal to match, with support from both air and armoured units.

But first, they needed to find the enemy, and for that, they had a plan.

For some time, information regarding The Alliance had come directly from a source inside their own organisation, detailing everything from telephone conversations, to financial transactions, to personnel rosters, and one piece of information they'd come across, had sparked their interest.

They were on a hunt.

A hunt for items made, or designed by a man named 'Rambaldi'.

A man who lived nearly six hundred years ago, as an architect for Pope Alexander the sixth, who was declared insane, and then killed because of it.

He alone was interesting, but the safety of their own organisation came first - their curiosity would have to wait, until they were certain they were safe.

The Alliance would have to pay dearly for what they had done, not only for supplying information and arms to terrorist and rebel factions, but for killing an operative of theirs in cold blood.

A single operative of theirs had died, not purposefully, but was now dead, nonetheless because of the sloppy actions of the alliance.

They needed to set an example to everyone else.

You do not mess with MI0.


	2. A cells disappearance

**Ghosts** ****

A cells disappearance 

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
This is the first of about five chapters I've already written, but I've decided not to post the lot until I get some feedback, or I think it's been long enough with an update. This is basically, just a tester to see what you think, so lots of reviews would be very handy.

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

Sydney had just arrived at work and was barely at her desk, when the familiar voice of Arvin Sloane called her into the briefing room. Putting her bag down, she turned to look at Dixon, who was in tow.

As the pair entered, they were greeted by a very unusual sight - the briefing room was full; Sloane at the head of the table, with Jack standing behind him on the right with all the other chairs, par two at the end of the table, filled with faces of other agents. Looking around, she glanced up at her father, who's demeanour told her everything she needed to know - something big had happened.

"Agents" Sloan said, indicating to the two empty seats at the back. 

Dutifully, they took their places, watching as everyone else in the room eyeballed them, however subconsciously. 

As she sat down, Sloane began the briefing. His face was pale, and his voice was on edge, both nervous and angry at the same time.  
"I called this meeting because of an incident that occurred in the early hours of this morning."

Everyone looked puzzled, there was nothing important on the news, not that it would have been if it regarded SD-6.

"At a quarter past eight, local time, the offices of SD-9 was hit by a professional team of commando's, who stormed their way in, and with a horrific ruthlessness, tactically gunned down everyone who had been working at the time. This is the last bit of video footage we received"

Sloane paused for a second, as the screens on the desk showed four persons, masked, wearing state of the art body armour, and carrying the latest weapons, mercilessly gunning down over twenty SD-9 agents, without a seconds hesitation, before the camera itself was hit, and the screen showed static.

"At the same time, everyone involved with SD-9, who weren't at work, were killed by a range of methods of assassination. Initial results to contact anyone in SD-9 have failed, and we believe that we are looking at the last few moments of an entire SD group"

Eyes were wide, but still there was a significant silence among the group. Sydney's mind raced, someone had hit SD-9 hard, and from the looks of it, eliminated everyone involved with their work at the same time.

Sloane's voice brought her back to the hard reality that was life.

"Our information on this is sketchy at best, as we have not been able to contact anyone from SD-9 as yet"

Sydney thought for a second, and then spoke up. "London is 8 hours ahead, so that would have been midnight here, so that means this information is 8 and a half hours old"

As she spoke, everyone's heads turned towards her, and for a moment, she felt like she wanted to vanish, but couldn't.

The response was immediate.

"Other SD cells have sent agents to London, but as yet, none of them have reported in. We have reason to believe they were killed as soon as the entered the country."

Sydney couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not only had a group been able to take out SD-9, but every other agent sent to investigate. There was a communications and intelligence blackout over the United Kingdom.

Looking down the table, Sloane knew that somewhere deep down, they knew what he was going to say next.

"I'm sending you all to London, to investigate what happened to SD-9"

Although she wasn't shocked, Sydney was unusually, slightly scared of the prospect of going somewhere, where she might be killed the second she got off the plane, but no-one dared ask whether this was a good idea, they didn't want to show face in front of each other, let alone their boss.

"I know this is highly dangerous, but it is a risk we have to take. We need to find out what happened to SD-9 at all costs"

Jack passed around some black mission folders, and then took over from Sloane.

"Because of the fact that the agents sent in to SD-9 have not been in contact, we can only assume that whoever did this, will expect you to be coming, so we have to make this as quiet an entry as possible." His words were harsh, but very well chosen. Even he did not know if they were being sent to their deaths.

"You'll each go alone, using your own passports, booking the flights on your own credit cards. It's advisable that you don't take a direct route to London, so you might want to go somewhere else, like France, first, before getting to England, and eventually to London."

Sloane spoke up, "You'll take the contents of those folders with you" gesturing towards the folders, "they contain the address of SD-9's headquarters, and the access codes you need to gain entry. Also, I want you all to go in armed, we don't know what will be waiting when you get to the other end, so go down to the Armoury and take out a pistol with ammunition."

"When you've got that, I want each of you to go to Marshall to get an earpiece, and a Metal Detector Jammer, so you'll be able to carry a gun with you at all times."

He waited a second, before carrying on. "Are there any more questions?"

Everyone shook their heads, and he dismissed them, telling them to keep this as quiet as possible.

As they walked out, Dixon caught up with Sydney, who was already heading towards Security Sections armoury to get a gun, and some time in on the range.

"I don't know about you Syd, but I've got a real bad feeling about this one. There are just too many unknowns" He sounded concerned, and honestly, she thought, he had every right to be.

"I know Dixon, there's just something that doesn't seem right". They turned a corner, and nearly walked into Marshall, who was carrying an armful of big boxes, obscuring his view.

"Sorry, Ms Bristow, Mr Dixon, I I I didn't know you were there" His stutter was a lot worse than it usually was, so he was obviously under a lot of pressure at the moment. 

"Don't worry Marshall" Dixon said, "Do you want a hand with those?" he turned to see Sydney who was cringing, but desperately trying to hold back a laugh.

"Erm, no thanks, I I I mean, err... Yes please, if if" he paused to shake his head violently "that's not a problem Mr Dixon"

Taking a few boxes from Marshall, both of them noticed a small reddish-purple mark on Marshall's neck. Sydney's eyebrows shot up in amazement, and Dixon just coughed, looking down, trying not to look too surprised.

Luckily for the pair, Marshall was busy trying to readjust his grip on the boxes to notice.

With a handful of boxes, Dixon indicated towards the Op Tech room, saying calmly "After you", watching Marshall walk on, oblivious to what just happened. 

Sydney clasped her hand over Dixons shoulder, and said "Did you…" 

"Yup" he said, grinning like a fool "I'll see what I can find out" he said, sneakily. Walking off down the corridor, he yelled "I'll meet you in the range in 10 Syd" "Sure thing" she yelled back, shaking her head, trying not to grin at Marshall's predicament, as she walked down to the range, wondering if Dixon would point it out to him.

**Somewhere in England**   


The office was large, and stylishly decorated, with crème walls, a wooden desk & bookcase, all offset by the calming light of a 3 spotlights, shining down on a large painting on the left wall.

The main occupant, a man in his early 60's, was sat in a leather desk chair, behind the said desk, while the woman, again, in her 60's, was sat, comfortably across the sofa, next to the tinted door.

With a sharp, tap tap, on the glass, the both occupants sat up, as another man, dressed in the full dress uniform of a Royal Marine, entered the room, carrying with him a small manila folder.

"Report Colonel" the elderly gentleman said, as the Colonel stood to attention, and saluted his commander, before placing the folder on his desk. "Sir, the first phase of the operation was a complete success" he sounded proud of his job, and he was "From a total of four hundred twelve targets, there have been four hundred twelve eliminations within the last 3 hours, and an addition seventeen targets removed upon entry to this country, sent by other cells to investigate the disappearance of SD-9. We have zero injured, and zero civilian casualties. The building, as it stands, is structurally fine, but some of the offices were slightly damaged by gunfire."

"Good work, Colonel, anything else?"

"Sir, no Sir" he said, standing back to attention.

Glancing past the soldier that stood before him, the elderly gentleman looked at the woman, who simply rolled her eyes, but then nodded in confirmation. The colonel was aware of the glance and tried to see what was going on, but when he couldn't, he just left it as is.

"Colonel, there will be nine more agents coming into this country within the next twenty four, to forty eight hours. They are to be left alone until I say so, are we clear?" 

"Sir" he said, saluting, before turning to his right, and marching out, making sure to close the door behind him.

"Is that information true?" the man asked 

"Yes, we have the bodies numbered and accounted for. Our operational procedures were perfect" the woman said.

Steepling his fingers, the man leant forward, and said in a low tone "I'm very serious about these new operatives - they are to be left alone, but I want them tracked the second they arrive, are we clear?"

"Crystal sir" the woman replied 

"Good, now get on with it" he said, as she stood to leave.

As the door shut, the man was able to sit back in his chair, and relax for the first time in days, letting all the stress run out of him, and within a few minutes, he was asleep. 


	3. Coach Class

**Ghosts **

**Coach Class**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  


Originally, this was going to be part of a much larger chapter, but after writing it, the passage seemed huge compared to the rest of what I'd done, so I decided to cut it in half - I'll post the rest tomorrow if I get the chance. 

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

Unlike her last few trips to England, going direct from LAX to London Stanstead, Jack had told Sydney to fly to New York, and from there, fly to Glasgow, where she could then drive to a safe house he knew of in York.

At the time, she'd argued that it was a bit of an indirect route, but Vaughn had agreed with her father, saying that the most obscure and indirect routes are usually the safest, so she did as asked, and had been flown from LA to New York, where she would have a day to spend there, before her flight to Scotland two days afterwards.

Jack had said that it was the only flight he could get her on given the timeframe, despite the fact that a flight to Heathrow was leaving three hours after she landed. Vaughn however, had said that she deserved a day off to have a look around the big apple, and she appreciated that, as she'd wandered around the shops getting a gift or two for Francie, and a few things for herself, before returning to her hotel room for the evening.

Even though she knew that no-one knew what was waiting for her when she would arrive in the UK, as she boarded the plane, Sydney Bristow was rather calm, not worrying whether the little jamming device in the pen, she carried in her pocket would deceive the Metal Detector, so she'd be able to carry a gun on board the plane, or that for the first time in a very long time, she was flying coach, not business class.

And so, the plane took off, on its 10 hour trip to Glasgow International Airport, as she sat in the cramped, crowded, coach section, dutifully flicking through the in-flight magazine and going over the safety pamphlet that had been tucked away in the pocket in front of her, knowing that if the plane hit the water at 400mph, being in a crash position would probably not help that much.

Time ticked away and however slowly, hours passed, and the pilot announced that they were within 1 hour of Glasgow Airport, stirring a dozing Ms Bristow from her sleep.  
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Sydney opened the window blind, and looked out on to the lights that were the Scottish coast, glad that in 60 minutes, she'd be off the plane and able to stretch her legs without kicking anything, and without the shrill shrieks of a crying baby in the background.

As she began to stretch, an air hostess pushed a trolley by, asking if anyone wanted a drink, and for a second, Sydney wondered how they did it, how they always seemed happy and chirpy when everyone else felt like hell both physically and mentally.

"Miss? Are you alright?" the hostess asked, snatching Sydney from her moment of envy.  


"Err... yes, sorry, do you have any ice water?" Sydney said, stuttering an apology, as she handed over a dollar bill for the drink, not receiving any change, but a small plastic cup, and a bottle of mineral water of similar size.

As the hostess trotted to the next aisle, Sydney looked at her purchase, and felt robbed, but decided not to dwell on it. She still had a job to do, and would need to be completely focused on the job if she was to succeed.  
With the communications blackout in effect, it meant that she may not be able to contact anyone for help, neither SD-6 nor the CIA. No Guardian Angel to save me this time, she thought to herself, both laughing and caring deeply at the statement at the same time, so she sat down, eyes shut, not really thinking of anything but the mess of information in her head, picking out specific bits of information she might need.

After forty minutes of hard concentration, the captains' voice came on, saying that they'd just begun their decent into Glasgow airport, and that all passengers can stow away any luggage, return to their seats and fastened their seatbelts as she heard the mechanical whirring of the flaps repositioning themselves.

With her seat back upright, and her tray table locked in its normal position, Sydney watched through her window, as the lights of Glasgow shone in the darkness that was the early winter morning, as the landing gear lowered, and after a few minutes of circling, finally touched down to the cheers of everyone onboard, including herself.

10 hours sitting in the same place, with little to no room was not a nice feeling, especially when you got your body moving again.

As the plane rolled off the runway towards the terminal building, Sydney unfastened her seatbelt like everyone else, and retrieved her backpack, complete with travelling tags, like a true tourist. She smiled for a second, almost thinking at how well forged it all looked, and then realising that it wasn't forged at all - it was in a sense, almost surreal that after many hundreds of flights to more countries than most people could name, she was for however short a time, a normal person, just like the person sitting in front of her, and the one sitting behind her.  
Usually, a thought like this would keep her going all day, but for some reason, it failed to draw anything but a sigh.

When the time came to disembark, Sydney joined the crushing exodus that was, and slowly managed to get to the baggage handling depot, where, surprisingly, her bag was one of the first off.

Taking it as a sign of things to come, she grabbed the bag, and walked down to the car rental agency, where she picked up the keys to a metallic blue BMW 3-series, only to find that the lot it was parked in was about as far away as possible.

And so, after a 5 minute drive on the shuttle bus, she finally got to the car, dumping her bags in the boot, before getting in the drivers seat and taking off for York.  
Since she had a few hours driving time ahead of her, she'd already decided to get some proper food, pulling into a Little Chef restaurant, in a nearby service station, greedily eyeing the Travel Inn motel next door, and for a few seconds, her knees went weak, and she just wanted to crash for a few hours.

Ignoring the need for sleep, she ate heartily, and drank at least 3 cups of strong, black coffee before resuming her travels to the safe house at York.

By the time she was nearing the English border, Sydney noticed that dawn was upon her, and had already begun to realise that she had a fair way to go yet. Sighing, she floored the accelerator, and the car picked up the pace immediately.

As she travelled, dawn became morning, and morning became midday as she finally pulled onto the drive of the safe house, realising that she'd driven for nearly 4 hours straight, in a foreign country on the wrong side of the road, yet she couldn't remember a second of it.  
She ignored it, as she stepped out the car, wearing only a short sleeved top, and a pair of jeans, greeted by a sudden blast of cold air.  
Grabbing her backpack, she ran to the front door, as fast as she could, remembering where her father had told her the key was, fumbling to get it in the lock, and stumbling in the door, to be met by warmth, and the unexpected sounds and smell of something cooking.

Shutting the heavy door as quietly as she could, Sydney dropped her pack on the floor, and crept forwards down the hall, towards what she thought was the kitchen, but her silent approach failed her, stepping on a creaky floorboard.

"We're in here" a voice shouted out.  
Bemused, she just walked in just in time to get the shock of her life. "Vaughn, Weiss, what…?".


	4. Cooked Breakfast

**Ghosts **

**Cooked Breakfast**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Part two of what was originally one chapter, the first half I put up yesterday. There are a few scenes in this, and the previous chapter that I wasn't quite happy with, so if anyone has any suggestions on how to improve them, I'd be really appreciative.  
Anyway, Read and Review - any and all comments are appreciated, so long as their constructive.  
Thanks in advance.

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

"Hey there Syd" Weiss said, only briefly making eye contact, and nodding, not taking his eye off the stove as he watched the sausages and bacon fry.  
Vaughn was just sitting at the table, back against the wall, smiling.

Sydney first pointed towards Weiss, and managed to get out a "How?" before pointing towards Vaughn and asking "Why?"

Straightening up, Michael spoke first. "When Jack gave the basic outline of what had been said at the SD-6 meeting to Devlin, he went ballistic and put us two clowns on the fastest plane bound directly for England"

"Which just happened to be Concorde" Weiss added smugly, as he shuffled the frying pan once more.

"Yeah" Vaughn nodded towards his partner "Although we're not officially here, we're the only backup you'll be getting from the CIA on this mission. We're here to find out exactly what is left of SD-9, and depending on what is left, bring it back to Langley for analysis."

Sydney, still confused, but understanding what was being said, sat down and looked quizzically at the pair. "What about…"

Weiss spoke up before Vaughn could open his mouth. "The communication blackout - apparently its only affecting the communication systems the alliance use. Telephones, radio and internet communications are working fine, its just signals from SD cells that it doesn't like. Oh yeah, do you want one sausage or two?" He turned to her, pointing at the sausages and bacon sizzling in the pan.

"Erm, one thanks" She paused for a second, and looked as if she wanted to say something, but decided it could wait.

Vaughn got up, and smiled at her. "Have a seat; I'll bring your gear in. Where are the car keys?"   
She patted her pockets for a second, before throwing him the keys, "Here, the button at the very bottom lets you open the trunk"   
Their eyes seemed to connect for just a second, and there was a massive flux of electricity between the pair, both of them just smiling like fools, only interrupted by Weiss letting out a yelp of pain, as a bit of oil hit his finger.

"Back in a sec" Vaughn said dutifully, as he left to get her bags from the car.

As she heard the door shut, Weiss chirped up, "So how was the flight?"   
"As good as spending 10 hours in coach can be, I feel like hell" She replied, a mixture of tiredness and exhaustion in her voice.   
Weiss looked over his shoulder at her, and chuckled. "Heh, you look worse than Vaughn does when you're on a mission"   
"I don't know if I've just been insulted, or I'm being appreciated"   
"Trust me, that's a bad thing" was the almost instantaneous reply, as he got out 3 plates, and began to place the freshly cooked food down. It smelled good.   
She chuckled; Weiss always could say something to make her laugh. "In that case, I'm very insulted, and you know what happens when I get annoyed"   
He turned and smiled at her, before opening up the grill, and removing a tray of toast, and hash browns.   
"Yeah, I know what happens when you get annoyed" he said, carefully knocking off the extremely hot food onto a plate, and flicking the kettle on at the same time, "you're a Bristow, you beat the hell out of whoever's annoying you, don't you think I know who you're family is?"   
The front door slammed shut, and grunting could be heard from the hall, as Vaughn struggled with the case. "Hey Syd, what have you got in here, it weighs a ton!"

She remembered back to the few things she'd bought herself and Francie in New York.   
"Ah, just a few extra's I bought in New York"

Weiss sniggered as he heard the struggle between man and woman continue a few feet away, trying hard not to laugh out loud.

The sounds from the hall stopped almost as quickly as they began and Vaughn gave up, just in time for Weiss to dish out some breakfast.

As the plate landed in front of her, Sydney just got her fork, and prodded what had been put in front of her, like a child prodding something that didn't seem right. The look on her face told it better than her actions did.

"Don't worry, its edible, I think" Weiss said, taking a bite out of his toast, carefully holding it in his mouth as he put his own plate on the table, followed by 3 cups of black coffee.

"It smells decent anyway" Sydney mused, as Weiss took another bite out of his toast, before sitting down, scowling at her for mocking his cooking skills. She just shot him an evil glance back, and all Vaughn could think to say was "Careful kids, we're not in kindergarten anymore"

The sentence drew an evil, but confused look from Sydney and a cackle of laughter from Weiss, as he sat down ready to eat himself.   
As he looked around the at the others, slowly devouring their cooked breakfast, Vaughn savoured the moment; he was in a house, eating a pretty good breakfast, with his best mate and confidant, as well as a woman he cared deeply for, but knew that he could never have.   
He smiled nonetheless.

Sydney looked up from her plate, noticing that something didn't feel quite right, and looking up, a tingle in the back of her mind, which would have probably been screaming at her if she didn't feel so lousy, told her that it wasn't. She looked round the room, not noticing anything astray, only to lock eyes with Vaughn a few seconds later.

Weiss noticed that the two had stopped eating, looking up concerned. What he saw was nearly enough to make him laugh out loud, but he kept a lid on it - the last thing he wanted was to alienate his best friend, and get beaten to death by Sydney Bristow.

Deciding his options, he swiftly kicked what he thought was Vaughn's shin, making a solid thwack of contact. Vaughn didn't seem to move, so Weiss leaned back and looked under the table; he'd hit the chair leg.

He looked up, disappointed at his attempts to bring them both back to the real world, only to see the pair still staring directly at each other, completely motionless.   
Slowly, Weiss kept on eating, only stopping a minute later - he'd decided that his second option would have to be used.   
"Ok" he said determinedly, pointing to the both of them with his fork "Seriously, you guys need to stop doing that, it's scary enough just being here, let alone in a room with the pair of you, and I hope you'll be able to focus for this mission, because I really don't want to go back to the US in a body bag."

His words had more of an effect that he wanted. As they broke off their little stare, Vaughn dropped his head and went a bright red, while Sydney watched, then shot an ice cold glance at Weiss, that would have taken his head clean off if looks could kill.

Picking up his empty plate, he took a swig of his coffee before putting them both in the sink. Peeking over his right shoulder, he could see both Sydney and Vaughn trying desperately not to look at each other; Sydney, eyeing the décor, while Vaughn was probably counting the floor tiles.

"Jesus, I hope I'm never that bad" Weiss said, under his breath as he rinsed his plate under the tap.

They must have heard him, because Sydney got up and announced that she wanted to get some sleep, before the mission was due to go ahead. Weiss directed her to the spare room, while Vaughn probably just smiled like he usually did.

When they heard the door shut, Michael shot up, ready to explode at his friend. "What the hell was that for?"

"Aw jebus Mike" he said, making a point of not turning to face his accuser, "you to looked as if you wanted to get it on right there and then"

He didn't get a response.

"You haven't told her about Alice, have you?"

Again, no response

Sighing, Weiss put the plate down, dried his hands, and smacked Vaughn around the head, hard.

"What the hell was that for!" he said, cringing at the blow.

"Just making sure you're still at home" Weiss replied, making sure to look directly at his friend, showing his concern. "I hope you two can keep your heads in the game" he said, throwing a hand towel to Vaughn, before dropping the plates and cutlery in front of him.  
"I know I'm not the senior officer, but I am allowed to take over if I think that you're not thinking straight, and that's something I don't really wanna do." Weiss walked over to the door, "Just dry the plates and stick 'em away - I don't wanna give another lecture about 'emotional attachment' and you sure as hell don't wanna here another one, and so long as you keep your head in the game, I'll let you do your job, but if I have to, I will KO you and take over, even thought that's something neither of us want, clear?"

Vaughn felt like he'd been told off by a junior school teacher, wanting to reply with a sarcastic 'yes sir', but he could only manage a dutiful "Yeah"; he knew that his friend only wanted to protect him, even from himself, but he knew that Weiss would act on his threat if he thought he needed to.

Weiss nodded, in acknowledgement. "I'm gonna go get a paper or something, clear my head. Back later", his annoyance followed him, as the door shut with a loud slam, leaving a sulking Vaughn, in a house with a very angry Sydney.   
He was between a rock, and a very hard place.


	5. Tracking

**Ghosts **

**Tracking**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
I don't really know what to put in here, apart from _thanks for the reviews!_, especially Gabs  
  
Anyway, if you've got any comments or questions, just as - I'll try to answer any sort of questions you have as soon as possible  
Suggestions on how to improve the story are welcome too

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

Armed with intelligence regarding their plan of infiltration, it wasn't hard for the Counter Intelligence teams to pick up and track the various agents sent in by SD-6. All of the agents came by commercial carrier, using their own passports, which was highly unusual given the strictness of the veil of secrecy enforced by The Alliance over SD cells, and all, par one, landed locally to London, or the surrounding counties. 

There, they were identified as they went through customs, and assigned a tracking team, who would follow them wherever they went, under whatever circumstances, and, if it became necessary, eliminate their targets as quietly as possible. 

Dixon walked quietly off the plane, only stopping for a moment to remove a bottle of water to quench his thirst, as he watched the various planes get ready for their next trip through the slightly tinted, reflective glass, ever conscious that he might be surveiled by potentially one or more agents, and he was right. 

As he passed through the Customs check in point, Dixon didn't bother looking at the couple that had been stopped and searched by customs, glad that they didn't pick him for a random search. 

Walking swiftly down the long corridor leading to the exit, Dixon had to pass a security booth where an MI0 security officer was checking everyone's passports. Over his ear piece, he could hear his commanding officer inform him where Dixon was in the queue, telling him to take a little longer than usual, as they needed him standing relatively still for the facial scan. 

Waiting patiently in line, Dixon finally got to the front of the queue, and graciously handed the Customs official his passport, who immediately opened up the back page, and looked at the photo. 

"Welcome to England sir" he said in a slightly bored tone. "How long will you be staying?"   
Replying with the standard "Just a few days" excuse he'd used many times before, he felt a tingle of concern as the Customs officer did a double take of the photo, before handing back the passport.   
"Before you go, can I suggest that you get your passport updated when you get home, this one will expire in a few months time" the Customs official said with a smile.   
As he was handed his passport back, Dixon looked amazed, but then said thank you, before putting his bag on the conveyor belt for the x-ray machine, and walking through the detector himself. 

Nothing happened, no alarms, no nothing, silently thanking Marshall for his little jamming device as he walked over to get a newspaper before he went to get his car. 

Deep inside Stanstead Airport, in a secure room, there was a single man sitting in a chair with a laptop in front of him, surrounded by monitors showing a live feed of the security cameras placed all over the building. 

As Marcus Dixon walked up to the Security booth, he watched, as a tiny camera in the light above the Customs station took a snapshot of the agents face, and ran it through a biometric facial recognition system. The system was so advanced that even when wearing fake appendages such as noses or ears, the system was able to realise the difference between them and human skin and filter them out. So far the system had had a 100% hit record, and today, that wasn't going to change. 

Hitting the 'M' button on the laptops little keyboard, the monitors around the security station flicked to views of the Customs area, all showing an outline of Dixon, despite there being another person or object in the way. The system would now change the feed of the monitors to match Agent Dixon's movement within the building. 

The second scan taken on Agent Dixon occurred as he walked through the Metal Detector, which contained a specially designed radar system known as a Hard Object Scanner. This system would identify things such as knifes, guns, and other items that were either weapons or of intelligence gathering purposes, and displayed them on screen.   
At the moment he walked through the scanner, Mr Dixon had been carrying some form of jamming system in the shape of a pen, in his trousers, and a Beretta 92fs stuck to his lower back, just above his waistline. 

Pressing another button, the man in the chair began speaking to his headset, as the monitors around him switched to various views - one of the car park, where a member of his team, disguised as a mechanic, was fitting a tracer to the car Dixon had asked for, another of the Avis Rent-A-Car stall, where the only woman there, currently dealing with another customer, was another one of the agents in his team, while the other two monitors kept a constant visual check on their target, as he bought a newspaper, and headed for the rental station. 

"Ok team, stand by" he said calmly, intently watching the monitors "3, the target will be with you in a few minutes, stand by. 7, 8, wake up, you're about to go on"   
"Copy that sir" '8' answered, only to be heard a second later for his partner to hurry up with that coffee. 

This dance was just about to start. 

Marcus Dixon approached the rental station with relative caution taking a second to look around at everyone else who was collecting their cars, trying to look bemused as possible at the commotion, but subconsciously staking out potential targets. Approaching the desk with documents in hand, he looked around seeing only one person there to help him, a ginger-haired woman who looked to be in her early 30's, but probably was a bit older.   
"Can I help you sir?" she asked, nicely, and for a second, she reminded him of Sydney.   
"Uh, yes" Dixon said, handing over the rental papers for her to look at "I'm here to pick up my car"   
Eyeing the papers, she went over to one of the computers, and began typing in the details. After about a minute of questioning him about insurance and his drivers licence, she handed him the keys to a silver Ford Focus, directing him towards the parking lot, where one of the mechanics would get the car. 

Putting the papers in his bag, Dixon began to stroll towards the garage, subconsciously fiddling with the car keys in his hand, wondering, however slightly, if there would be twenty pounds of C4 attached to the engine when he arrived. Pushing the though out of his mind, he stepped up the pace, making his way, quickly, towards where he thought his car was parked, only to find out a few minutes later that he'd gone the wrong way. 

Cautiously approaching the right parking lot, he was met by a rather grubby handed mechanic, who said that he'd fetch the car for him, and walked off with the keys. For a second Dixon wondered if the man had any idea that he might not go home alive. He was proven wrong, as the mechanic drove the car up to where he was standing, getting out leaving the engine running. 

"If ya can sign here, and here, she's all yours mate" he said in a gruff cocky accent. "The tanks full, but you don't need to fill it up before you bring it back. Have a good one pal" he said walking off, papers in hand. Satisfied with the car and the service so far, he drove off, making sure to drive on the right. 

In the secure room, back in the main building, the man in the chair watched as Marcus Dixon, Agent of SD-6 and potential threat to the security and safety of their organisation and country, drive out of the view of the security camera's, followed out by a single black taxi, with one driver and one passenger, who both knew where he was supposed to be going. 

As the screen on his laptop changed to a map of the city, with a single red flashing dot moving down the screen, he talked to his team. "Okay boys and girls" he announced into his headset "Mr Dixon has left the grounds, and we've got another two targets coming in today, so Bill and James will be taking orders for lunch once they're certain the package has reached his destination, and Hotel have confirmed take over from there". Despite the fact that they were meant to be a very hard working bunch, he still got a few laughs and moans from the rest of the team, as they shouted out their orders. Today was going to be a long day. 

While day slowly gave way to night, and the team were getting ready to go home, somewhere in an office, an elderly gentleman, sat down at his oak desk, reading over the reports coming in from their Counter-Intelligence teams across the country. So far, only 6 of the 8 agents sent by SD-6 had arrived, with another landing in few hours, and the last one landing, very strangely, at Glasgow airport, the day after tomorrow. 

Looking up from the reports, as he heard the door open, he saw the woman who had come to him earlier with information regarding the agents from SD-6, walk directly over to a cabinet just under a table, and pour herself a large scotch. 

"You know, for a woman of your condition, you probably shouldn't be drinking that" he jested getting the desired effect; a hearty laugh, as the woman poured him the same.   
Turning towards the man, she leant back on the table "Yes, but if you adhered to protocol this bottle" she said, hefting the capped glass tube filled with brown liquid "wouldn't be here" 

He eyed her suspiciously, as she returned the bottle to its holder. "But don't worry, we're each got something like that hidden away" she said, walking over to the leather couch she'd been sitting in earlier. 

He raised his glass in both admittance and agreeance, as she did the same. 

After a few moments silence, she looked at him, as he got back into the work frame of mind. "Who do we have?" he asked concernedly. 

"Off the top of my head, I can't remember, but they're on the computers under listed intrusions, subclass intelligence agents." He tapped the plasma screen on his desk, and looked down the list. He read off their names; Dixon, Ramirez, Tong, Peterson, Ingot and Wilderspin. 

Before he could say anything, she interjected. "we have six confirmed that landed today, with one tomorrow in the early hours of the morning, and one in two days time, landing very strangely at Glasgow Airport" 

"Glasgow?" he said, aghast. "Bit of an unusual route" 

"Very much so" she said, taking a sip of her drink. "If I recall, that agent would be one Miss Sydney Bristow, who travelled to New York, from there to Glasgow. After that we don't know where she'll be heading as there doesn't seem to have been any reservations made, at least not using her, or any of her know aliases, credit cards" 

The man looked down, deep in thought, "Bristow eh?" The name sparked memories dating back to the days when he was an operative, doing wet work for NATO. 

"Yes" she was playing with her glass, waiting as he digested the information, before dropping something else into the conversation.   
"One other bit of information came to my attention earlier" he looked up "the CIA contacted MI6 to ask that it have two agents from Los Angeles to be flown as fast as humanly possible to London on Emergency business for the American Embassy." Her tone sharpened as she got into the details "They were senior agent Michael Alexander Vaughn, one of their handlers, and his partner, agent Eric James Weiss, an operations intelligence specialist, who MI6 were informed, were being sent to deliver some eyes only information to the ambassador" 

His look told her exactly what he thought of that. Utter Bollocks. 

"Quite" was all she could say. 

It was his time to add to the conversation. "I do seem to recall a Bristow working as a double agent for the CIA, perhaps it's her, and the CIA are worried about their asset" he said, as eloquently as he could. 

Caught off guard, she could only reply with "Is that so?" 

He smiled. You didn't usually catch someone like her off guard. 

"Have E-section look into it - if they have to, break into Langley's classified archives to get the information, clear" 

She stood up, placing her drink on the glass table in front of her. "Sir" she said before walking out. 

Something felt slightly off - the information regarding the CIA operatives, the lack of knowledge regarding to Agent Bristow's whereabouts once she landed, it all felt slightly off. Considering his options for the moment, he reached for his phone. 


	6. Clandestine Planning

**Ghosts **

**Clandestine Planning**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Well, here's the sixth chapter, as I promised - I've been trying to do a chapter a day, both writing and uploading, which I don't think I'd be able to do, if I wasn't already a few chapters ahead.  
All I can say is that I've got a few things planned to happen in later chapters; some more background on MI0, and some more Syd/Weiss banter.  
Since I'm new to this, I've kinda come a bit stuck on some of the characters, so if anyone can tell me where I'm going wrong, and how I should change them, it'd be a great help.

Anyway, until tomorrow - _ Spyder_

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

As Sydney Bristow stepped out of the shower, she quickly wrapped a towel around herself, before cautiously opening the door to see if there was anyone around upstairs, finding no-one, but hearing the noises of a conversation going on down stairs. 

Despite she was in a situation that she had wanted to be in for a long time, there were still certain things that she wasn't totally sure of, and this was one of them. 

Leaving the relative safety of the bathroom, Sydney darted as quickly as she could, into her room, where, upon entry, she shut and locked the door, just in case. For some reason, as she moved down the hall, a strange feeling came over her, and was still tingling when she entered her room. 

Sitting down on the bed, she smiled, biting her lower lip realising what that feeling was, remembering how good it felt. As she sat there, slowly drip drying, she heard her mothers voice echo through her head; "Remember honey" her mother had said "You can look, but don't touch".   
Her mother had always said that whenever they went out shopping as a pair, when her father was away on business. 

Between the mix of water dripping down her face, Sydney shed a single tear, wanting to give anything to be back there now; before her mother 'died', before her recruitment, before she found out the truth, and before the pain of wanting to love, but not being able to show it, had set in. 

The moments ticked by, as she sat there on the edge of her bed, reminiscing of a past life, and dreaming of being able to act on her wanton need. She smiled, only to be interrupted by a sharp knock on the wooden door, a voice from the other side echoing slightly down the hall. "Syd? Are you alright in there?" It was Eric - he was probably wondering what was taking her so long. Looking at the clock, she realised he was right, she'd been sitting there for nearly 20 minutes.   
"Uh, yeah, just getting my stuff together" she said, hoping that her feeble attempt at a lie would hold up.   
"Ok, let us know if you need something" was the reply, not letting on to whether he believed her or not. 

Quickly getting dried, and dressed, she walked down stairs a few minutes later, finding Eric back in the kitchen, talking on his mobile. He waved at her with his free hand, and then mouthed 'Devlin', pointing towards the phone. Nodding in response, she decided to get herself a drink. 

By the time Eric had finished on the phone, Sydney had been watching him pull faces at the phone for nearly five minutes, nearly choking with laughter twice. Putting the phone in his pocket, he knew exactly what she wanted to ask.   
"Vaughn had to go down to the US Embassy today, to deliver a parcel and pick up some gear that we'll need for the op" 

It took a second for his words to hit her, "you mean you've got a plan?" 

"Of course, we're the CIA, we've got plans for everything", she chuckled and shook her head, as he rummaged through a bag on the table, pulling out a small, padded envelope, and throwing it on the table. 

"What's this?" she asked, curiously.   
"That" he said pointing to the envelope with a coffee mug "is our plan."   
"Our plan?" she said, hesitantly   
"_Our_ plan" was the confirmed answer.   
She opened the envelope, and a load of paper fell out across the table.   
"We really should wait for Vaughn to get back before we go through this. Since I'm an operations officer, I only know what I've been told, since he's your handler, he may know a few more bits that might be important" He spoke clinically, like he was back at work, which probably felt very strange for him. It felt like that for her.   
"Ok, do you mind if I take a look anyway?" 

His sentence never started, as a Digital ringing sound came from upstairs.   
Weiss looked down at his phone, "Not mine and Vaughn took his with him"   
Sydney's eyes went wide, and then ran as fast as she could upstairs, followed by Weiss, who was desperately trying not to spill his coffee. 

As he reached the room, he found Sydney fumbling with her back, trying to dig something out of one of the pockets, only just managing to get it out, before it nearly slipped from her grasp. 

She didn't take time to look at who was calling; she just answered it with a rather happy sounding "Hi" 

The voice on the other end was not one she was expecting. 

"Sydney, its Arvin, is this line secure?" His voice was concerned, but not rushed, speaking as clearly as he could.   
She looked at the phone, and pressed #1470, and the phone bleeped its reply.   
"Yes sir, the line is secured this end". The second she said 'sir' Weiss almost coughed up his coffee. 

"Good, we've only just got communications back up, but we're not taking any chances, so I'll be brief. I've just spoken to Dixon and Tong, letting them know we've got communications back, and one of them will telephone you within the next two to three hours to reconfirm what I'm about to tell you" 

She mouthed the name 'Sloane' towards Weiss, who just mouthed 'What the hell?' in reply, before nearly dropping his coffee, and grabbing a pen and paper for Sydney. 

"Even though we've just got communications back, we're going to assume that somehow, whoever is out there is listening in on us at the moment, so Dixon and Tong have arranged to meet up with the rest of your team tomorrow morning at 11am, in the Café Noir, just off Oxford Street in London" 

Sydney was rapidly scribbling down pieces of information, while Weiss was just watching in interest. In the background, he heard a car pull up, and walked quietly to the front door, to let Vaughn in, and let him know what was going on. 

"When you reach the Café Noir, Dixon and Tong will brief the team on what the plan is, and you'll go from there. Are we clear?" His words were calculatedly harsh. He would definitely be under pressure to perform, so didn't want to leave anything to chance. 

"Crystal, sir" was her standard reply, as she scribbled down some more notes on the paper.   
"Good, until you speak with either Dixon or Tong, you are to keep this line clear, understand"   
"Yes sir"   
"Sydney, we're counting on you. Don't take any unnecessary risks, and come back safe" she could hear a tinge of concern in his voice, whether it was real or not was another matter.   
"I will sir" she answered before the line went dead. 

Finishing off her sentence, Sydney looked up, to see Weiss and Vaughn standing above her, looking almost as if they'd seen a ghost. 

"I think we may have a problem" Vaughn said, his usual calming tone had vanished, and for a second, Sydney was very scared. 

**Somewhere in London**

The elderly gentleman walked rather calmly towards his office. It had, so far, been a rather good day, and everything had gone better than expected, however as he walked into his office, that rapidly changed. 

He was half way towards his desk, before a voice from behind piped up. "You know, you really should get better security here". 

The elderly man stopped in his tracks, and was about to turn around and face the would-be intruder, as he heard the crisp crunch of someone taking a bit out of an apple. 

"Good to see you Commander Huntingdon" he said, looking over his shoulder, before walking back over to his desk, and sitting down. "I see that even after three years of inactive service, you're skills have not dulled a bit" 

As the elderly man looked at him, Commander Huntingdon stood up to attention, without saluting. In three years of not officially seeing him, the man hadn't changed a bit. 

"Take a seat commander" the elderly man said, as he reached over for his phone.   
Commander Huntingdon just sat back down on the leather sofa, apple in hand, just looking around the room, not really looking at anything, but scrutinising it all. 

"Three?" he asked.   
The man let out a small laugh. "Five"   
"Ah" Huntingdon said, disappointed. "one in the light fitting over by the painting, one in the Ming Vase in the corner, and one in your Granddaughters photo"   
"I'm glad to see that you're still very good at finding bugs" It was a standard joke between the pair. "Coffee?" he asked 

"Yes sir, black please"   
The elderly man pressed a button on his phone, and a woman's voice became audible.   
"Can we have two black coffee's Mrs Appleby, one for myself, and one for Commander Huntingdon" he smiled, purposefully dropping the 'we' into the sentence, and then stating who they were for. He was certain that Commander Huntingdon wasn't seen as he walked in.   
"Certainly sir", the line beeped off. 

Neither spoke, as they waited for the coffee's to arrive, as neither wanted to be interrupted, so they sat there, in relative silence, Commander Huntingdon finishing his apple, and the elderly man looking at the painting on the far wall.   
When Mrs Appleby arrived with the coffee's, she just smiled at the pair as she walked in, handing them their drinks before leaving graciously. 

"Well?" Huntingdon asked as the door shut and locked with a pneumatic hiss.   
The elderly gentleman took a sip of his coffee, clearly not wanting to rush anything. "Well commander, it appears that your services have once again to be called upon, but I hope you can keep your work and your feelings separate"   
"I most certainly can sir" 

"Good" he said, taking another sip of the steaming coffee. "Given that you're never under informed, I shall presume that you know of our operation into SD-9 the other day"   
"You presume correct sir"   
"Good, what do you know about the operation?"   
"Only that two days ago, a platoon of assault troops managed to stealthily insert themselves into the headquarters of London based SD-9, a section of The Alliance of Twelve, where they than began tactically eliminating everyone in the building, as well as anyone inside UK borders affiliated with the group" Even though he was talking about a massacre, he could have very well been talking about the weather, given his emotionless tone. 

The elderly gentleman didn't say anything; he just waited for the Commander to continue. 

"Sir, I warned you four years ago of the alliance threat, and we knew then, that they were no match for us, so why has there been such a massive change in policy since then? Everyone here knows what happens when one of our own goes down. We take out the aggressors in a lightning fast strike, so when Leanne was killed, why didn't we react the same way?" 

He looked down, saddened by what the Commander had had to say, and he knew how to respond. 

"Office, grey mode" he announced to no-one in particular. 

As the commander gave him a quizzical look, he realised what was being done. Slowly, the lighting in the room was shutting off, save for a trio of lights in the centre of the room, while the windows started to tint themselves, blocking out all external interference on any wavelength, from light to sound and everything in-between. 

The office was being secured from bugs. 

"Office in grey mode status" an electronic voice announced "Office is secure" 

The elderly gentleman then began to brief the commander, and after nearly two hours of clandestine talks, the office finally returned to its normal condition with both men, in their own minds, began working out a plan of action. 

Finally, commander Huntingdon broke the silence. "So what am I doing here?" 

"You're job is simple." He said, matter-of-factly, "Since you are one of our wetworks specialists, you will have unrestricted access to the entire command structure during this operation. You can attach yourself to whichever squad you want to, and either be their point-man or be the commander, its down to you." He took a final look at his Granddaughters photo before continuing. "You will have complete control over every single unit, both internally and externally, working with whomever you need to." 

The elderly gentleman looked up, looking slightly angry. "You will carry out my orders, to the letter, you report to no-one but me, clear?" 

"Perfectly sir, what's my first mission?" Huntingdon asked. 

"You, Mr Huntingdon, are going on a little snatch" he said, grinning as he passed over an envelope 


	7. Café Noir

**Ghosts **

** Café Noir**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Well, 7 chapters down, and another 3 ready to be put up.  
At the moment, I'm a little uncertain about some parts of this chapter, so I'm uploading it to get some feedback on where and how you think it could be improved, as at the moment there's a high chance I'll rewrite this section as and when I get the chance, but if I do, I doubt the chance will significantly affect the rest of the story anyway.  
Until tommorow - _ Spyder_

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

To make the 11am rendezvous at the Café Noir, Vaughn had worked out that they'd have to leave the safe house at 6:30am the next morning to get there on time, presuming that they did not have to deal with any tails, and that things went smoothly, which he assured her it would. 

And so, after what seemed like hours going over every little bit of information they could get their hands on, the trio of CIA agents were rather confident that they had everything planned out correctly. As Sydney looked down at the table in front of her, she picked up a sheet of paper with 'Extraction Methods' on, which stated as much information as you could cram onto an A4 bit of paper; it detailed routes and methods of extraction, from simply walking out, to talking the London Underground to Heathrow and getting on the first plane out of there. 

If this amount of paperwork went into every mission, she mused, then Vaughn and Weiss must work their asses off to get this much information together, planned and workable. 

Looking at her watch, she thought it was time for everyone to call it a day. It was 11:47pm and the rendezvous was the next day. 

As she got up, Vaughn, the only other person in the room smiled a weary smile at her, and she responded in kind, before yawning. "I'm going to bed" she said, heading for the door.   
"G'night Syd" Vaughn said, without lifting his head from the bit of paper he was scribbling notes on.   
She looked puzzled. "Aren't you coming?" she asked, a moment too late, realising what she'd just said, "I mean aren't you going to sleep too? We've got a long day ahead of us, and I'm going to need you awake". She was rushing the words, trying hard to cover up her mistake, but it didn't work; Vaughn was just looking at her with the biggest grin on earth moulded to his face. 

Wanting to laugh at her own mistake, and cringe at the look on his face, she let out a chuckle before he suddenly returned to the real world. "Uh, yeah, I 'spose, I'll… err… be up in a few minutes, k?" 

Laughing again, she just nodded a yes, and then left, walking past the lounge room to an already snoring Eric Weiss. Sticking her head in, she smirked at Eric's position on the sofa - his feet were up on the armrest, his head was in-between two cushions, and he looked as if the next move he made would make him fall off. 

Smirking, she closed the door as quietly as possible before heading upstairs to her own room, where she just fell on the bed, and was asleep within seconds. 

Café Noir is, to say the least, a very exclusive place to drink. Located in the centre of Oxford Street, in London, it is one of the best places to be seen, and meet some very high class people. 

And as such, it has a very high security profile, with both the London Metropolitan Police, and Scotland Yard involved in its protection, including such measures as CCTV with Facial Recognition and 2 Armed Response Teams who patrol up and down Oxford Street, day and night. 

Usually this level of security would be something Sydney would have to deal with, taking out the CCTV cameras, before neutralising the Armed Response Teams, however this time, she was almost glad that the cameras were there, and that there were four, fully armed, combat ready police officers who could arrive inside 2 minutes if anything went wrong. 

She was already late, and she knew Dixon would not be happy because of it, but that was a fact of life, living in LA taught her that in a busy area, always give yourself a little extra time to get there, but it was now 11:23am, and she still had a way to go, but she wasn't alone. 

Sitting in the passenger seat, Sydney looked over at Vaughn, who was driving, concentrating hard on the traffic in front of him, with Weiss in the back, playing around with her earpiece just to make sure it worked properly before handing it to her. 

Eventually, Vaughn pulled up, and after wishing her good luck, Sydney stepped out of the car, dressed down as a tourist, as agreed, and walked towards the café where she would meet the rest of her team. 

Turning onto Oxford Street, she noticed that the street seemed relatively empty, especially around the café, where she immediately noticed Dixon sitting at an outside table, wearing an almost neon red shirt, which strangely enough made him seem to blend in more. 

She thought about yelling to him to get his attention, but then remembered what she was there for, and getting undue attention was the fastest way of getting killed in this line of work. 

Sydney was about thirty meters away from the restaurant she noticed something wasn't right. 

In front of her, about fifteen meters from the group, she noticed a man walking rather more determinedly that everyone else, directly towards the group. Normally she would have ignored this; however, the man was wearing a black trenchcoat, which just didn't seem right to her, given the current conditions. 

Ignoring the signs was the worst thing she'd ever done. 

She noticed Dixon get up from the table, and then immediately collapse, which was followed by a scream from another patron as Tong, the other group leader. 

Eyes wide, she began to pick up the pace towards the café, when a BT Transit van pulled out of the lane next to her at speed, only to see it slam on its brakes as it got to the café. 

All the meantime, she subconsciously watched the man in the trenchcoat, as he pulled out a pistol, shooting the other members of the SD-6 team, moments before the side door in the BT van slid open, and three masked, heavily armed men ran out towards the group, as did about three of the patrons, all, it seemed, were armed, yelling things to each other and to the other patrons who were at this time screaming in hysterics. 

As the two armed men, aided by one of their plainclothes friends, grabbed three of the SD-6 agents and hurriedly threw them to the van, the other two plainclothes helpers' dragged Dixon and Tong towards the van, who were aided by their armed comrades as they were put into the van, which sped off as fast as it arrived.   
Almost as quickly as the van left, a with a black land-rover rolled into its place, with doors open, the driver yelling to the plainclothes helpers and the trenchcoat man, who got in without a seconds hesitation, speeding off after the Van. 

The entire ambush, she calculated, took under 16 seconds, from first hit to the Land-Rover getting away, and although that time, Sydney stood in place, in complete shock, mouth agape at what just happened. 

Sirens wailed in the distance, and she thought it was time to leave, turning, and walking as fast as she could without being noticed, away from the scene where her friends had been abducted less than a minute ago. Determined to get out alive, Sydney didn't realise until she got to the car that she was crying, thick and fast. 

When Vaughn heard the screams, he immediately assumed the worst and started the engine ready to leave if anyone wearing any sort of uniform came round the corner, and for thirty seconds, none did, until Sydney walked round the corner, at which point he was relieved that she was alive, but he knew that until they were out of London and possibly the UK, that she wouldn't be truly safe. 

Without a seconds hesitation, Weiss opened his door, and almost threw Sydney in the car, until he realised she was perfectly capable of doing it herself, despite the look of abhoration on her face. 

Vaughn didn't wait for Eric to close his door before gunning the engine - neither of them wanted to stick around and see what would happen next. 

However, in their haste, they didn't notice the Biker follow them out of the city, and half the way up the M1, before he fell back, and they were tailed by an inconspicuous looking Audi, all the way back to the safe house, that had been broken into earlier. 


	8. Reporting in

**Ghosts **

**Reporting in **

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
After a short (4 day) alchohol induced break, I've finally got round to updating the story, and done two more chapters, so depending on how much I get done tommorow, I'll either update again tommorow, or I may leave it for two days then update.  
If you've been following the story, this is where it starts to get a bit interesting for Sydney and her CIA companions, but the next chapter is (I think) the best, so stay tuned.

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

The drive back to York went quicker than it did coming, or at least that's what Sydney thought.   
During the trip back, she'd recounted as much information as she could back to Weiss and Vaughn, who were hanging on to every word she had to say, trying to piece together as much information as they could, to get a decent picture of what actually happened. 

As they left Oxford Street, Vaughn was trying to get out of there as fast as possible, without arousing any suspicion, while Weiss, who was sitting in the back with as much communication equipment as he could carry, had a radio tuned into the police frequencies, directing Vaughn to the fastest routes out of the city. 

Under normal circumstances, Vaughn would have cracked out the 'back-seat driver' jokes, but these were far from normal circumstances. 

They were three individuals, who should never be seen together in the first place, in a potentially hostile country, pursued by an unknown enemy who, from what they understood, was not in any mood to take prisoners, and had people under their command who were very, very good at their job. 

If they messed up, it wouldn't be too hard for Agents Vaughn, Weiss and Bristow to be denounced as MIA, after 20 years, joining Vaughn's father, William, as a set of black stars on the Marble wall in the CIA, and that was a prospect none of them wanted to face. 

Pulling out onto the motorway, Vaughn gunned the engine as hard as he could, and felt the car surge forward, picking up more and more momentum every metre it went along the tarmac. 

Ideally, Vaughn would have driven Weiss, Sydney and himself to the American Embassy, where they would have been put on the first flight heading home, to safe ground, but given that the two CIA agents were tagged as couriers, and that Sydney was here as a tourist, that would be hard to pass off, even with the CIA backing him up, and Devlin wholeheartedly, and undeniably vouching for them, which, on return to the US, would put them in an even worse situation. 

It did not look good, not one bit. 

Turning on the car's radio to lighten the mood, the first thing he heard was the news, which, much to their relief, had nothing on the events that had just previously happened in one of the busiest places in London, where any sort of incident like this would be reported on the news in under fifteen minutes.   
Two hours had nearly passed at that point, and if it hadn't already been reported, then there was some major form of cover-up in place, which did not bode well for them, Vaughn mused.   
Any group with the resources to pull off a job like this, in such a busy place, _and_ not have it reported on the nation news definitely had reach. 

Worried, he pulled into the fast lane, and gunned the engine some more, hoping to god that they wouldn't be stopped by the police for speeding. That was the last thing they wanted to happen. 

He looked over at Sydney, who had her head down and eyes shut, lines of dried mascara were visible running along her nose. For however long a moment, all he wanted to do was to be there for her, to be a shoulder for her to cry on, to be someone she could open up to, without having to lie, or hold back her emotions. 

He wanted to be with her. 

The car rumbled over the cat's-eyes in the middle of the road, shaking her awake, and him back to reality. Weiss just sat in the back, concernedly looking down at his laptops screen. After working with Weiss for nearly five years, Vaughn could tell that he'd found out something that, at best, didn't please him. 

Leaning back into the seat, Sydney shook her head to get the blood flowing around her brain.   
It hadn't yet registered to her that she was in a car, driving back to the safe house, until Vaughn spoke up. 

"Morning" He said, cheerily.   
Both Sydney and Weiss looked up; she was smiling trying to hide her concern, while he still had a very concentrated look about him. 

"Afternoon" Sydney replied, tapping the clock in the dashboard. It read a quarter past one. 

"Hungry?" he asked, as they passed a services sign. 

"Definitely" was the unexpected, but very much subconscious reply coming from Weiss sitting in the back, and it showed, he'd begun to chew his pen. 

Vaughn turned back, to look at the traffic, working out when and where he could pull into the next lane. Sydney on the other hand, still slightly dazed from the incident earlier, put a hand in front of her mouth and giggled slightly, only to redden a moment later, realising what she'd done - she sounded as if she were back in school. 

He smiled, and the car pulled into the services, parking in one of the more empty sections of the car park. Turning to face his passengers, he was about to ask what they wanted, but didn't even get to open his mouth before Eric interrupted. "Gimme a Whopper, large fries and a Coke".   
However engrossed in his work, Eric had obviously seen the sign for the Burger-King as they pulled in. 

Grinning at his friend's skills of observation, Vaughn just turned to Sydney, who just nodded in agreement, knowing what he was going to say next. Deciding what he wanted, Vaughn got out of the car, and headed towards the services building, letting his mind wander as he thought of Sydney, Eric, what they were doing here, and what they would do next, completely unaware of the Audi that had been tailing them since they went past Luton Airport. 

The rest of their journey was uneventful, and considerably more relaxed. Sydney had fallen asleep, again, and Weiss was still looking at his laptop, but was a lot calmer, while Vaughn seemed to be pretty much inert from his surroundings, only concentrating on the traffic, and the directions back to the safe house, hoping he didn't take a wrong turn, or he'd never hear the end of it from Eric, or Syd. 

Finally, after a few hours of driving, the group pulled up in front of what was their home base, blissfully unaware that a few minutes after they'd left, the a team of specialists had broken into the house, setting various surveillance devices around the building, and their clothes, making sure that when they left, there was never any sign that they had ever been there. 

As they entered the house, the first thing they did was check the TV for any reports on what happened earlier. Like Vaughn thought, there were none, and that worried him somewhat. In such a high profile area, there would be something reported, even if it was just a sentence saying that something had happened. But there was nothing. Not even the slightest hint that the performance earlier had been reported on. 

With the veil of secrecy in place, it was decided that they had to act fast, and change their plan, given the situation they were in.   
It was originally conceived that Sydney would enter the offices of SD-9 with Dixon, and reporting on anything that they found, which the CIA would pick up via a tiny camera, built into the lapel of her body armour. 

But now, with Dixon and the SD-6 team taken by the enemy, that plan had been annulled, and they needed a new one, quickly. 

For now, however, they needed to rest, breaking up for the moment to relax; Sydney taking a shower, while Eric and Michael crashed out in the living room, watching TV. 

It wasn't until Sydney got out the shower that she realised that if she didn't report this to Sloane, he would definitely be very suspicious of her activities, and if the alliance were involved, then the matter might be taken out of his hands. 

Walking downstairs, Sydney realised that during her shower, Vaughn and Weiss had fallen asleep in the lounge, both of them snoring rather loudly. 

Going in, she tapped Weiss on the head, and he was awake in a few seconds. "Come on guys, we've got a job to do" she said, in a very demanding tone, pushing Vaughn in the knee.   
It didn't take long before she realised that he was completely gone, and that she'd have to try something else to get him up. 

She grabbed his nose between her forefinger and thumb, holding tight until he spluttered awake from lack of air. Weiss laughed, still tired, as he watched Sydney rudely wake Vaughn up. 

As he got up, he started to say something, but got cut off as Sydney laid out the problem. It wasn't until they heard the word 'Sloane' and 'report' in the same sentence that they became completely awake. 

After a swift few minutes of heated debates over what should Sydney should report, it became clear that all they could say was the truth, but just blur over some of the aspects regarding the CIA. She did rent a car, and she was at a Yorkshire safe house her father had arranged, but she was there alone. No-one else had been with her. 

Picking up her phone, she began to dial the number, waiting patiently for the line to be connected, as Weiss and Vaughn sat in the other room, listening to the conversation through a standard earpiece. 

Moments passed, and the static subsided, followed only by a single voice.   
"Sydney, I'm glad to hear that you're well. At the moment, you are the only person we sent over there, who's reported back, what's going on?" Arvin Sloane's voice sent chills down her spine - he was being 'aggressively concerned' for her.   
Deciding to skip the pleasantries, Sydney simply reported what she'd seen happen to the team, and when she was finished Sloane asked if she were ok, before filling in the gaps of information they'd managed to get. 

"At approximately 10:55 your time, SD-6 received two fax messages, both were doctor's post-mortem reports of Samantha Ingot and Bernie Jameson, both, it seems, had been killed by what seems to have been a heart-attack, however, at this point, we're very sceptical about this information, and believe that they were assassinated" Arvin's voice was cold, and hard. "From what you have told me, it appears that they were expecting us, so be careful" 

"What are my orders? Do you want me to continue alone?" She asked, slightly worried that if he said yes, she might not return. 

"The information held at SD-9 is of vital importance to identifying whoever attacked them, and it must be retrieved at all costs, are we clear Agent Bristow?" 

"Yes sir" she said, looking down at the black folder by her side "I'm right in saying that you've got nothing to add to the information in the folders?" 

"No, we currently do not have any information that we haven't already given to you." He paused for a moment, while she opened the pack. "Sydney, just remember one thing" he said, voice quavering for a second "If you get there, and don't think you can do it, abort. I'd much rather see you back here alive, than in a coffin. Be careful Sydney". 

She wondered if she should be taken aback by his comments, but before she could answer, the line went dead, and Vaughn walked in. 

"Did you get it?" she asked   
"Every second" she could hear a 'but' in his voice "but Arvin is right, if you think that you can't do this, or that you'll be in danger, just say so, and we can have you out of the country inside 3 hours" 

For some reason, his concern over her safety just made her feel a lot better than it usually did, probably because, she reasoned, that he would actually be there to help out if something went wrong. 

Getting up, she smiled at him, before heading to the door "We need to get planning". It was not a question. 


	9. SD9

**Ghosts **

** SD-9**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Here's where it starts to get interesting folkes, or at least I think so anyway  
After this chapter, I might not update for a day or two, but stay tuned, I've got a few more pieces to add to this little saga of mine.  
  
Anyway, hope you enjoy ;)  
  
_Spyder_

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

Rappelling down the elevator shaft to get into headquarters of SD-9, despite her best attempts to control them, Sydney was still feeling the pre-mission jitters, and although she didn't want to admit it, she'd had them since she had sat down with Eric and Michael to plan the mission, only managing to get a few hours of sleep here and there, over the day. 

Before leaving, Weiss had suggested she put it off, but Sydney refused to even consider putting it off for another day, replying that the longer she was here with them, the longer she'd potentially be a target for whoever was out there, including SD-6. 

Grunting with relief, Sydney's toes finally touched the elevator, and she was able to let some of the pressure off her hands. Standing on top of the lift, looking up, she remarked how far 60 foot was, or at least seemed, when in a pitch-dark, confined space of an elevator shaft. 

Throwing off the rappelling belt, Sydney tapped the earpiece in her left ear, rewarded by a sudden burst of feedback, indicating it was on. "Can you hear me?" she said, in a half whisper. 

"Reading you loud and clear Mountaineer, what's your position?" Weiss answered, completely focused on the layout of SD-9 Sloane had provided them when he briefed Sydney back in LA. 

Booting in the grill on top of the lift with her heel, she was surprised at the level of noise it made, falling barely eight feet, onto a hard floor. The clang of metal against tile reverberated all the way up, and down the elevator shaft. "I'm at position one, going in" 

"Copy that" he said, speaking off mic to Vaughn, who's voice came over the radio. "Mountaineer, remember, we need you back in one piece, so get out if its too risky, or if we call abort, clear?" 

"Clear" Sydney replied, slightly annoyed at the fact that Vaughn had suggested for her to abort, but she knew if she did, then she would have failed, and Sydney Bristow did not like failing. 

Dropping onto the tiled floor, Sydney was surprised to find that the elevators doors had been jammed open by some sort of bar, showing a dully lit scanning room, almost identical to that in the LA office of SD-6, however, this time, the metal security door that was designed to keep people out, was lying against the wall, with burn marks on its hinges, and around the wall where it should have stood. 

In the background, she could hear Vaughn and Weiss chatter away at what the offices looked like making written, visual and audio notes of the facility, care of the minicam in the lapel of her body armour. 

Taking out a flashlight from her pack, Sydney didn't bother removing her protective goggles, as she didn't know what was down here, waiting for her. 

Stepping forward, Sydney found herself in what must have been the reception area of SD-9, with white on the walls and blue for the carpet. She panned her flashlight over the desk in front of the two main doors into the offices, noticing the bloodstain on the wall. When the assault happened, whoever was behind that desk was the first to go. 

Creeping through the darkness that was the SD-9 office, Sydney tried desperately to find a light switch, or something else that would make her work a bit easier. Her hopes were dashed, as the lights didn't seem to work when she flicked the switch, with only a slight electrical buzz in the background, before a crackle and the office returned to its former level of noise. 

Walking around the office, Sydney noticed that there wasn't a single scratch, bloodstain, or broken object in sight; it looked like no-one had ever worked there. Searching the desks provided no answers either, as the workstations were empty, par a computer on each desk. 

She stopped, for a second, realising that this could very well be SD-6 when she returned - an empty office, with little to no signs of any sort of fight, that seemed almost surreal to her, given the sheer amount of people usually at SD-6 at any one given time. 

Pushing it out of her mind, Sydney resumes her search for anything that could possibly be useful to the CIA, giving up after searching three totally different desks in the same office, realising that they were all the same - one grey desk, one computer, one swivel chair, and one paper bin.   
There were no papers in the draws, or shavings in the bin - it was just empty. 

"Mountaineer, copy" she heard crackle over the earpiece.   
"Mountaineer copies home base" replying quickly, forcing herself not to think about SD-6, and how she could be returning to this very scene.   
"Schematics show that there is a main office just round the corner to the left" she peered in that general direction with the flashlight. "Search it; there might be something useful in there" 

Silently approaching the office door, Sydney noticed two bullet holes where the door lock was supposed to be - tapping it open with her free hand, before bursting in herself, waiting, and almost wanting for something to happen. 

After nearly half an hour of searching, she'd still turned up nothing in the completely empty and totally impersonalised office that was before her. Giving up, she just walked out, not really caring if there was someone there. 

Time passed slowly for Sydney down in the basement that was SD-9, but took even longer because she was going over and over the same procedure again and again. Enter an office; check the lights, search the office, and move on to the next. 

Completing her search of the seventh office she'd come across, Sydney was about to just give up and leave, but as she turned to the door, Weiss came over the intercom, informing her of what he'd just picked up from inside the building. 

It was a cell phone signal, coming from a room near her position. 

Shutting her eyes, Sydney could barely hear the beeping tones of a mobile phone above the eerie deafness that made up SD-9. 

Walking swiftly towards the sound, she found herself in what could have probably once passed as the SD-9 vault. 

This, she thought to herself, looked more like the scenes she'd seen back in LA. 

Burn marks scorched the walls, and bits of plaster, broken tiles and metal from the air conditioning ducts were now scattered in a million pieces on the floor.   
The vault door, she noticed, looked as if it had not moved an inch for a long while, but she couldn't help but gape at the human sized hole in the massive metal breach, that was at best guess, at least a foot thick. 

Peeking inside, it looked like it had been ransacked. 

Locks had been burned or cut off, draws were open and scattered on the floor; there wasn't a single piece of the room left completely intact. 

Piecing the puzzle together, Sydney realised that whoever had assaulted the building, bought along some very heavy duty equipment, knowing exactly what they were dealing with. 

A clang in another corridor got her attention, and Sydney ran towards the noise, ending up in the photocopy room, noticing nothing amiss, which only sparked her interests even more.   
Standing around for a minute, observing the scene, Sydney thought she could hear the mechanical whirr of a computer, heading in that direction, flashlight up. 

Looking down the stretch of corridor that joined the offices together, Sydney walked down, past one office, and onto the other, not really looking to see what was in them. She was transfixed by the noise coming from what she thought was a computer. 

Office after office went by, and Sydney thought she could see a glow in the end block, quickening her pace with every step towards her destination, almost in a sprint as she reached the final few rows of offices. 

Turning her head, Sydney tried to make a mental map of where she was in the facility, just in case a quick exit was needed. 

As she walked into the office, she saw what she was after, and yes, it was a computer, and yes, it was on, showing a single bit of text, in big black on white letters. 

Sydney's eyes went wide, visibly shaking at the message as every one of her fears took over; the combination of being alone, in a dark, potentially hostile, place finally taking over.   
At first, she didn't know how to react, and stood there in shock, her body willing her to move, but she didn't - she couldn't.   
Staring at the message for what seemed as an age, her subconscious finally took control, and Sydney found herself running faster than she'd ever done before, still too much in shock to think properly, let alone say anything. 

**Somewhere in London**

They were back in the elderly gentleman's office, eyes transfixed on the plasma screen fixed to the wall behind his desk showing, in full colour, a sensor feed from the office of SD-9.   
The pair sat in silence, as they watched one Ms Sydney Bristow, Operative of SD-6 and Double Agent for the CIA, rappel slowly down the elevator shaft, entering the SD-9 reception area. 

Commander Huntingdon looked at his watch. "5 minutes, 15 seconds." He looked up towards the monitor "Given the way she entered, that's not too shabby". 

The elderly gentleman remained silent for a moment, rubbing his chin, eyes not leaving the screen. "Yes, but you have to remember, she's been doing this sort of thing for nearly 7 years, so one would expect her to be of a fair level of ability" 

"True" he paused for a moment, thinking over his next few words "How is Mr Williams doing?" 

"Let's see shall we?" The elderly gentleman pressed a button on the screens remote, and instantly, the picture split into two - one side showing the feed of Ms Bristow, while one showed a picture of a very indistinguishable figure, moving in a slow crouch, following her. 

"Hmmmm... he's not too bad" the commander said, noting the fact that even with the security camera's image enhancer, they could only just make out Mr Williams. 

"Yes, he scored highly in the stealth training - very agile, good in hand to hand, but not so good with weapons handling."   
"This his confirmation op?" Commander Huntingdon asked, taking a sip from his coffee.   
"Yes - I've already had Lieutenant Matthews, Echo's CO; request him to be assigned there once this op is over"   
Huntingdon wasn't surprised - if he recalled, Matthews was a former recon officer with the parachute regiment, and so was Williams. 

The conversation ended abruptly, as they watched Ms Bristow creep into the vault room.   
Mr Williams took out a small PDA with a light wand attached to the bottom, and poked the end around the corner, not wanting to risk getting caught. 

Through the darkness, they could see Mr Williams raise his hand to his ear, and nod twice, before moving off down the corridor. 

Neither man spoke, as the elderly gentleman pushed another button on the remote, and the room was filled with the sounds from the radio. 

"Copy that Grey Pawn, proceed to secondary objective, will advise when target is moving again"   
"Roger" 

Both men watched, as Mr Williams silently entered one of the offices deep in the heart of SD-9, noticing that Ms Bristow had finally plucked up the courage to enter what was left of the vault they had ransacked a few days before. 

"Command, Grey Pawn, beginning upload procedure"   
"Copy Grey Pawn, Target is still in the vault, you're clear for at least 4 minutes"   
"Roger, beginning now" 

Time seemed to stretch, as everything became still in the most crucial moment of the operation. If something went wrong here, they'd have to fall back to their secondary plan, which would potentially set them back at least a day, possibly longer, and the longer they were operating like this, the longer they would be exposed. 

Suddenly, a clang was heard, emphasised because of the echo in the building. 

"What was that?" Someone asked quickly   
"I dunno, but it wasn't me" 

Both men frowned, and everything suddenly went into overdrive. 

"Sir, target is moving quickly towards the office"   
"Grey Pawn, stand firm, complete the upload"   
"Expected time to contact 40 seconds"   
"Confirmed"   
"Come on baby, hurry up, hurry up for god sakes" Williams was nervous, and it could be heard in his voice "It's done, I'm moving"   
"Target is turning left, towards your location"   
"Grey Pawn, hide" 

Without question or hesitation, Mr Williams did a diving roll into one of the private offices, crawling prone under the desk, hoping that he wasn't discovered. 

"Target has held at Photocopy room"   
"Hold position Grey Pawn"   
A single beep was the only response given - vocal communications might have been heard. 

Waiting anxiously, everyone watched as Ms Bristow just stood in the photocopy room, looking to find what had made the noise, but not finding it, only hearing a mechanical whirr in the background, that was not there a few minutes ago. 

"Target is moving off towards the objective - grey pawn, hold position, repeat, hold until we have confirmation" 

Under the desk, Mr Williams noticed the light coming from Ms Bristow's torch highlighting the window as she passed, moving quickly. Over the comm unit, he could hear the support team list off the offices as they watched her pass them. 

"Office one, office two, she's past office three - you're clear Grey Pawn" 

Mr Williams didn't move, he knew that if he moved now, then there was a chance he'd be spotted, waiting patiently. He'd rather wait and walk out of his own accord, than race out and be caught. 

Time seemed to stretch once more, and after about 30 seconds, his patience was rewarded with the sound of fast moving footsteps - she was running, fast. 

"Target is cleared the area, and heading towards the lift, you're clear Grey Pawn" 

With that, everyone was finally able to let out a sigh of relief. 

The mission was a success. 


	10. Running

**Ghosts **

**Running **

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Hope you liked the last bit, because this is when emotions and feelings start flowing for the trio. Well, at least for this part.  
  
From here on out, I'm going to try and pick up the pace of the story a little, but I've had to rewrite this and the next three chapters because of Point-of-View problems (Never try writing from more than one point of view at a time - trust me, it gets confusing, especially with something complex)   
  
Loads of thanks to Gabs, who's been reviewing each chapter almost as quickly as it gets put up - you've been a great help :) 

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

Sydney Bristow was running - running faster and harder than she'd done before, as the adrenaline coursed through her veins pushing her harder and harder, making her muscles burn with each motion, her memory guiding her to the exit. 

She stumbled, sliding along the floor with sheer momentum. 

When she finally opened her eyes, she realised just how dark it was. She'd dropped her flashlight while she was running, and now, there she lay, with tears welling up behind her eyes, vision blurry, in a darkened place. 

Moving, she had to keep moving - if not for her sake then for her friends. 

Getting up, she tried to pull herself together, trying hard to work out where exactly she was. 

Looking around, she could see a bit of light off to the left, and began to jog towards it, turning into a full paced run when she realised where it was coming from - the lift. 

Sprinting through the scanning room, Sydney almost threw herself into the elevator, slamming hard against the back wall, rewarded by a loud ping as the doors closed and the lift went up. 

Using the rail on the side of the wall, she managed to haul herself up, still not completely realising that a once broken lift, was now fully operational. 

After a 30 second ride, the doors pinged open again, and Sydney almost stormed out of the lift, running on sheer grit determination as she walked hard and fast to the recovery point, where she'd meet up with Vaughn and Weiss. 

On her way up, she'd decided that she needed to get out of here as fast as possible. Get back to someplace safe.   
She didn't want to try to think up any plans in her current state, because she knew that she didn't completely trust herself at that point - one little mistake could cost her a friend, or worse. 

Leaving the safety of SD-9's offices, Sydney immediately headed towards where she knew Weiss and Vaughn were waiting to pick her up. 

Still in a half jog - half run, Sydney could clearly see their car parked a few metres down the road, despite the heavy rain.   
Luckily for her, as she ran towards the car, she was met by the bright white of the reverse lights, as Vaughn backed the car towards her. 

The car stopped just as she reached for the handle, clambering in. Before either man could say anything she just said in a single monotonous voice, drive. Hesitating for a second, Vaughn pulled the car onto the road, and drove off. 

As usual, the first minute was the most awkward - both men wanting to ask questions, but Sydney didn't want to answer, so they left it be. 

With the cars windscreen wipers going, Sydney was able to focus on something and pull herself back into the real world. 

"They were waiting for me" She got confused looks from both her associates. "They knew I was coming, and they were waiting for me"   
"How?" Weiss asked, before Vaughn could "I mean, we didn't say anything to anyone - no one apart from us knew we were coming"   
Sydney just let everything go, and exploded for a second at Eric. "Yeah, but they KNEW that I was coming, they KNEW everything" she yelled, arms flying furiously about in the confined space of the car. 

Eric went quiet. 

"Syd" Vaughn said, in his usual relaxed tone "calm down, calm down."   
She took a deep breath, facing the window, just watching the world go by.   
"Now, relax, and tell us what happened", before she could answer, he stopped her again "Don't worry, you're alright, now what happened?" 

Slowly, she began to describe to them what had happened, remembering each and every motion up until she saw the computer, at which point all she could say was that for the first time in a very long time - she truly felt fear touch her, and it scared her. 

Vaughn's heart went out to her, and he wanted just to stop and comfort her. His head, however, told him otherwise, and this time, his head won. He stayed focused on the road and on the job - compassion could come later. 

Looking over, he could see that she was sobbing, but trying hard to hold it back. For some reason, he knew that something else was wrong. "Syd? What's wrong?" 

She began openly sobbing into her hands 

"Syd? What's wrong? What is it?" 

Vaughn turned to look at Eric, who just shrugged, and put his hands on Sydney's shoulder trying to calm her down, but all she could get out was "They knew… they knew" 

From his seat behind Sydney, Weiss gave a questioning glance at Vaughn, who could only shrug in response, but the message was clear.   
"Sydney" Weiss asked "What did they know?" 

When she didn't respond immediately, Weiss had to change his tactics a little. Placing a firm hand on her right shoulder, he squeezed gently at first, trying to get her mind to focus on what he was asking her. "Sydney, look at me" he demanded "What do they know?" 

She spun round with lightning speed, and faced him, face in a scowl, but eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying. "Us Eric" she said, pointing to everyone in the car "they knew about us, they knew we were here, they knew what we were going to do and when, they knew about you and Vaughn, they even knew I was a double agent" 

Vaughn almost choked as he heard the words come from her mouth, nearly bringing the car to a quick stop. Turning to look at his partner with eyes wide with fear, he couldn't believe that whoever was out there, knew more about them than they had originally realised.   
Both CIA agents were in a mix of shock and fear, but eventually Vaughn's mind began to race, as he thought up what to do next. 

Sydney spoke next, with tremendous clarity and unwavering in determination. "We've got to get out of here, now" 

Her words bought both CIA agents back to earth with a nearly visible thud. "What about our gear?" 

"Leave it, we've just got to get out of here fast - get back to somewhere safe" She was totally determined with what to do, and this time, Vaughn didn't question her. He simply turned around and looked at Weiss, who was, by then typing furiously on his laptop.   
"Weiss" he said, quickly changing lanes, and heading towards the Airport.   
"I'm working on it, I'm working on it" was the hasty reply. He reached over and grabbed a black duffel bag, and handed it to Sydney. "There are emergency passports in the bag, as well as a few other items." 

Sydney opened it, and removed a small envelope with 3 US passports inside. Opening them up, she realised that the passports were exact copies of their own - they would not be travelling incognito on this trip.   
Putting them back in the bag, she removed two more black bags; one containing wallets with cash in, and one containing a small Beretta M9 pistol.   
Taking out one off the wallets, and her passport from the bags, she replaced the rest of the items and threw them onto the empty seat, almost hitting Weiss in the head. 

Looking through her newly acquired personal items, she realised that there was one thing missing. "Tickets… what about tickets?" 

"Almost… done" Weiss said, voice straining with concentration.   
Sydney looked over at Vaughn, who's usually slightly tanned complexion had gone, and was now replaced by a near ashen colour.   
"Got 'em - three tickets in the names Bristow, Vaughn and Weiss, on a direct route to LAX, leaving in 45 minutes." He finally looked up, and let out a sigh of relief. "We've got just 30 minutes to get to the airport" 

Vaughn looked at the clock in the dashboard, and floored the accelerator - they would be cutting this mighty fine if they were going to make the flight. 

"Travelling together, or separately?" Sydney asked, worried about Security section.   
"As a group, I couldn't get anything else"   
"Security section will be suspicious."   
"I know, but that's the best I can give you at the moment." He snarled in an over-aggressive yet defensive response "Do you really want to wait for another plane?" 

Sydney didn't reply. She just turned away, angry at Weiss, but furious at herself.   
She'd never gotten into anything as bad as this before, never truly been defeated, and never failed an objective, but this time everything was out of her control. 

She finally began to realise what running scared meant - she was no longer running on either adrenaline or the will to survive. 

She was running from fear itself. 

If caught, Sydney had no idea what would happen, and no idea what had happened to Dixon and the others. 

Dropping her head in her hands, she passed out. 

**Somewhere in London**

They hadn't left the office since they saw Sydney Bristow and her CIA friends bolt from the scene like frightened gazelle. 

As they sat, watching the feed from a Predator UAV tracking their car, Commander Huntingdon smiled at the predictability of their actions - first heading back towards York to a supposedly 'safe' place, only to realise that they needed to get out sooner, heading directly towards the Airport. 

Turning to face his comrade, the elderly gentleman spoke softly as he took a sip of coffee. "I see they acted as we predicted" 

"Yes, booking those seats on the flight and then cancelling them at the last minute was a very smart move" Huntingdon said smugly. "How is the recovery operation coming?" 

"Fine, Hotel has moved in on the safe house, and I've ordered them to send them back whatever they find - make it seem like the CIA picked it up and sent it over" 

"Psych-Op?" Huntingdon asked confidently 

"Yes, fear is the greatest weapon we have, and when used effectively, it can be more debilitating than every single nuclear weapon in the world" the elderly man said, matter-of-factly. 

Commander Huntingdon smiled, taking another bite out of his apple. They had a few of those themselves. 

Moments passed, as both men silently formulated the next part of the plan, and finally Commander Huntingdon spoke up. "What's the next phase?" 

"You don't beat about the bush, do you commander?" The elderly man said with a grin. 


	11. The Plane

**Ghosts **

**The plane**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
When I wrote this chapter, I tried to get as much feeling as I could into the psychological elements of this piece, working out how I would feel if I were in that situation and getting it all down on paper, and not just for the main characters.  
I've tried to think up what each character might be going through and feeling at certain points in the story, but I won't spoil the suprise just yet.  
  
To Gabs - To answer your question, you'll find out in the next chapter, so be patient; all good things come to those who wait.

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

They arrived at the airport with less than 20 minutes to go before the plane left, and were rushed through customs when Vaughn showed his CIA ID card to the woman at the ticket office. 

With only hand luggage with them, they were able to bypass everything par the usual metal detector and x-ray security scans, where they were held up when the customs officials found that Weiss still hadn't removed the handgun from his bag. 

By the time they were finished with Customs, the group had less than 5 minutes to reach the plane before it took off, and ended up running nearly full pelt around the departures terminal, looking for the right gate. 

Eventually, they found the right one, with less than a minute to spare. 

Sweating profusely, and struggling for breath, they were escorted to their adjoining seats aboard the 747 getting the occasional insult and questionable look from other passengers, but none of that mattered to them. 

They would be out of the country and on their way back to the US in no time. 

Sydney let out a deep, deep sigh, as she sat back in her business class seat glad to have that little extra bit of leg-room. 

Shutting her eyes momentarily, Sydney was asleep before the plane taxied to the runway. 

She woke with a shudder as the plane passed through some turbulence. 

Looking to her right, Sydney could see a slightly dazed Michael Vaughn groan a hello, while across the aisle; Weiss was reading one of the in-flight magazines, raising it slightly as a hello. 

The dimmed cabin lights gave her a good idea of what time it was outside, helped by the fact that a cabin attendant walked up to Vaughn, smiling. "Good morning miss" she said rather more chirpily than Sydney would have preferred, but at that point, she didn't care "Can I get you a drink?" 

Rubbing her eyes, Sydney held up a finger at the hostess, letting out a wide yawn before answering slightly sluggishly. "A bottle of water would be nice" 

Noticing Vaughn stirring a little, Sydney elbowed him in the ribs, and he woke up with a jokingly cringing at the blow. "Drink?" she asked, smiling.   
"Uh what?" Vaughn stuttered "Yeah sure, water thanks" he said, turning towards the radiantly smiling air hostess, almost scaring him. 

Sydney very nearly snorted a laugh as she watched Vaughn jump slightly as he turned to face the hostess. From her seat, she could see Weiss pull a face at Vaughn, as he turned towards her and groggily asked "What?" 

Sydney just giggled, still in a slightly sleepy haze, noticing Vaughn turn towards Weiss, who quickly resumed reading his magazine. 

Vaughn turned back, still confused, but gave up, and fell back to sleep. 

With nothing better to do, Sydney raised the blind to her window and looked out across the bright orange sunrise, reflecting the few clouds that could be seen, giving an almost spiritual aura to the scene. 

Just staring out across the tranquil sky, Sydney slipped back to sleep. 

The café. She was back at the café, walking up the pavement calmly to meet her friends, when they hit. 

Sydney barely stirred as she watched in horror, as her partner dropped to the floor, only seconds before everyone just disappeared. 

She watched in slow motion, as Dixon got up, hand raised facing her, just as he was hit, knocking him to the floor faster than a punch to the head, falling over his chair, and whacking the back of his head on the table behind as he fell. 

Sydney opened her mouth to scream for Dixon, but no sound came out, and so she screamed louder without any effect. 

Trying to move, she watched as Tong stood up to help Dixon, only to suffer the same fate less than a second after, but her feet were locked to the floor, and her muscles felt like lead - she couldn't move. 

Emotions welled up inside her, and externally Sydney began to fidget slightly in her seat, waking Vaughn. In her mind, she was feeling the full force of everything as fear slowly became terror and her mind brought her back to the horrific incidents of earlier. 

For what seemed like long minutes, she saw the scene over and over again in her mind, until she stopped thinking about the scene, and began wondering why her mind was showing her these images over and over again - but her mind was clouded with emotions and she found herself unable to concentrate for anything longer than a second. 

To her, it was like being awash in a sea of emotions without anything to keep her either anchored down, let alone floating. 

As she began to choke on emotions, she realised that she still had one last ditch effort to try. 

Plucking up what remained of her strength and courage; she took a deep breath, and yelled as loud as she could for Vaughn. All that escaped was a muffled "Vaughn…", but it was enough for him to hear her call. 

Looking over, he saw her squirm in her seat, and took a hold of her hand softly. "I'm here Syd" he said, rubbing his thumb over her soft, paling skin. 

For her, it was all she needed - the second he touched her hand, she knew there was someone out there to catch her, and bit by bit, she slowed her breathing, and managed to recover slightly. 

Inside her, the swirl of thoughts slowed in pace and she regained her focus. 

Image by image still flashed passed her at an almost lightning speed, but she began to control it, blocking out the fear and horrors of loosing her friends, knowing that in the end it would all work out, and she would be happy. 

After twenty minutes of struggling with herself, Sydney Bristow finally found herself back in the café, but this time completely able to move and look around at what was going on. 

Each moment went by, and she scrutinised every detail she could - from the direction Dixon and Tong fell, to the movements of the plain clothed assailants, to the man in the black coat.   
They were all perfectly choreographed - completely in synch with each other. 

As Tong fell, the man in the black coat had his gun drawn and was in a firing stance and by the time that the last SD-6 agent had been felled, the plain clothed helpers were upon them. 

Tactically, their plan was completely flawless, and totally audacious - an ambush set up in the middle of the day, in a completely open and highly visible area was not only risky to plan, but to pull off would require a considerable amount of skill, Sydney analysed. But from the looks of things, they'd done this before. 

They were too smooth, too quick to be first timers, and there was something about them, almost an elegance about the assault, she thought to herself. 

As her mind raced, she broke out into a slightly cold sweat, when she realised how capable they were, and how well trained they might be. Tactically, they were beyond anything SD-6 or any of its counter-parts could match, and in action, they seemed to be at least on par with some of the more senior SD agents 

She began to worry. 

Even in some asemblance of control over what was going on inside her head, Sydney still was unable to make out any of the faces, par one. 

The man in the black trenchcoat. 

Sydney stopped, and looked right at him, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. 

Then she realised. 

As the plain clothed helpers were being bundled in the range rover, she noticed him looking right at her, his eyes sharp enough to be tearing a hole in her soul.   
She shivered as the glare seemed to reach out and touch her somehow, chilling her to the core. 

Even after finding out the truth about SD-6, and deciding that Arvin Sloane was one of the most disgustingly evil men on the planet, there was something about the man in the black coat that made Sloane shrivel in comparison - whether it was the hardened look to him, or the sheer determination to crush everything that showed in his eyes, Sydney couldn't tell, but she was scared. 

She jolted awake with a shock; head in a cold sweat, heart thumping two beats a minute. 

Vaughn was sitting next to her and looked across, immediately worried for her - she looked visibly shaken by something. "Oh my god Sydney, you look awful" he handed her a bottle of still cold water "have a drink, what's wrong?" 

Bottle shaking in her hands as she raised it to her lips, she found herself unable to reply to his question. 

The water washed over her dry lips like water on a dry river bed - she continued to quench her thirst, until there was nothing left in the bottle, but air. 

Still not turning to face him, she tossed the bottle back to him, and then drew her legs up to her chest letting her head rest on her knee's, concentrating for a moment before letting him in on what she'd just thought up. 

As her head rose from its perch, she planted her feet on the floor, mechanically turning her head towards him - both their eyes locking as she spoke. "Michael, I'm scared" 


	12. Questions & Answers

**Ghosts **

**Questions & Answers**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Sorry for the long break folkes; a combination of work and my ISP mucking me around has kept me at bay and may do so for some time to come  
As such, I'll add chapters as and when I can, but rest assured, I've not stopped working on this, and there will be more chapters to come  
  
Thanks  
_- Spyder_

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

The rest of the flight back to LAX was uneventful, with all three agents managing to get at least six hours of sleep during the ten hour flight. 

Even before getting off the plane, Weiss had his mobile in hand and was calling for someone from the LA office to meet them at the airport - to his surprise; Devlin arrived with two accompanying agents, and took Vaughn and Weiss back to a CIA safe house for debriefing and psych analysis. 

They purposefully left Sydney to get a cab home, fearing that she would be tracked by SD-6's Security section. Having a car with CIA plates pull up to her house was probably not the best thing, given the current tension. 

She had barely made it in the door when the phone rang. 

With no sign of either Francie or Will, Sydney dumped her bag on the floor just in time to pick it up. 

"Hello?" she said, slightly peeved at the interruption   
"Sydney, thank god you're in" it was her father, he sounded anxious.   
"Hey Dad, what's…" she was cut off; her father was definitely in an impatient mood   
"Sydney, I need to see you at SD-6 now - Sloane knows you're back and wants to talk to you. We've been contacted by whoever attacked SD-9" he was rushing his words, as if being pressured to talk.   
Sydney tried to protest, but was interrupted again. "But…"   
"I know you've only got back, but I assure you, I will come down there and drag you to SD-6 if I have to." His words were demandingly harsh "Sydney, listen to me, this is important and we need you here now"   
"Ok, ok" she said, giving in "I'm coming in". Looking at her watch quickly and picking up her car keys she headed for the door. "I'll be there in 20 minutes".   
She was about to say something else, but again, her father cut her off "Good". A single tone came from the phone, indicating that he had hung up. 

Infuriated at his impatience, Sydney threw the phone at the sofa and stormed out of the house towards her car. 

Pulling out of the drive quickly Sydney drove to the bank with an almost deadly rage around her, jumping a set of traffic lights, and nearly causing a traffic accident, but by the time she pulled into the parking lot, it suddenly dawned on her how urgently Sloane needed to see her, as a pair from Security section were waiting by the garage's main entrance, while another agent opened the heavy metal doors that lead to SD-6's underground entrance. 

Looking around, she could see at least six, if not more agents from security section down in the garage area - a pair by the elevator, and another pair, visibly armed, walked towards her car and motioned for her to get out. 

She wasn't going to argue. 

As she got out, one of the guards came up to meet her. "Ms Bristow, glad to see you're back - go straight to the briefing room, Mr Sloane's waiting"   
She just nodded, and walked by.   
"Oh Ms Bristow" the guard said, turning towards her. A cold knot formed in her stomach.   
"Yes?" she asked curiously.   
"Keys please - we'll park your car somewhere"   
Smiling, she threw him the keys, and then jogged to the elevator, where she was met by another security section agent who escorted her straight through the scanner room, and into the main meeting room, where she was greeted by a cabal of the most senior agents at SD-6; Arvin Sloane, Jack Bristow, Karl Dryer, David McCullagh and Audrey Simmons, all bearing the harsh glare that came with more bad news. 

Indicating to the empty chair at the far end of the table, Sloane spoke calmly "Thank you for coming in Agent Bristow, please, take a seat" Motioning to the guard by the door, he simply ushered him away with a flick of the hand, the guard made sure to firmly close the door on his way out. 

Sydney's stomach went cold, and an inquisitive look towards her father revealed nothing than an emotional wall. 

"Sydney, I've asked you here specifically because you are the only known surviving member of the party of agents we sent into SD-9 this week" Sloane said, leaning forward on the table. "We'd like to hear your account of the events?" 

"Only surviving agent?" Sydney said, eyes agape with fear for her partner "What happened to everyone else?" 

Audrey Simmons answered before Sloane could "Please Agent Bristow, this is urgent, we can answer any questions afterwards" 

Despite not liking the answer, Sydney just nodded, and gave off her perfectly rehearsed account of the last few days, in as much detail as possible, from her departure from LAX to JFK airport, the day in New York, and then the flight to Glasgow. 

Sitting back in his seat, Karl Dryer stopped fiddling with his pen and spoke up for the first time. "Why did you go to New York and then to Glasgow Ms Bristow?" 

Before she could answer, Sloane surprisingly jumped to her defence. "Jack Bristow came to me, informing me that he'd booked Sydney on a less direct route to England for safety" he turned to look at his partner, who was hidden away in the shadows, before turning back to Dryer "It appears he did the right thing" 

Defeated, Dryer backed down, returning to scribbling notes on his pad. 

The hours seemed to stretch with each question, and Sydney was getting a little uneasy about the questioning. Her father on the other hand, showed no outward signs of anything which was usual, yet although that would normally have been a bad sign, she took it as somewhat of a good omen. 

As her report drew near its conclusion, Sydney began to realise that they were asking less and less questions and again wondered if this was a good sign, but she still had to go over the assault on the café, which she was sure would bring a whole new round of questions. 

She was right - she'd not even finished her first sentence on the assault before she was bombarded by questions, ranging from 'when did you first realise there was a problem' to 'what signs did you look out for when meeting the group' and nearly every other possible derivative in-between. 

The group stopped questioning for a moment, and Sydney snuck a peek at her watch - they'd been in there for nearly 4 hours non-stop. A voice startled her.   
"Have an appointment, Ms Bristow?" Audrey Simmons asked sharply.   
"No, just wondering whether I'll get home to watch the hockey match tonight" was her cool, but smart-assed reply. Jack, predictably, frowned. Sloane let out a laugh, and Simmons just backed down.   
"Just a few more questions, Ms Bristow" McCullagh said in a rather calming voice "and please, be as detailed and descriptive as possible"   
Sydney nodded, and shot a small glare at Audrey Simmons, who scowled back. Jack cleared his throat audibly, refocusing the attentions of the group on their work. 

Leaning forward, Sloane looked forward and asked Sydney to continue, which she did, going over each motion slowly and clearly, so that there was no confusion in her words. 

Sydney managed to finish with barely two questions asked, but a look on their faces that told her there was more to come. 

"Ms Bristow" Dryer said, scribbling down a few notes on his pad "can you describe this 'man in a black trenchcoat' with more detail?" 

"No, sir, I cannot - There was only a very brief moment of eye contact and for most of the attack, he had his back towards me" she said, clinically. 

Dryer handed his pad to McCullagh, who nodded "Ms Bristow - could you do a photo fit identification of this man?" 

She dropped her head to think about it, to remember the face of the man who shot her friends, and hold it in her memory. After a moment, she looked up, and gave a single word answer. "Yes" 

With that, the interrogation group seemed to grimace and smile simultaneously - concern and almost a visible joy appearing on their faces at the same time. 

"Good" Sloane took charge of the conversation "Karl, can you get everything you need set up please". With that Dryer nodded and left the room, leaving Sydney in a room with a foursome of highly trained agents, throwing wordless glances at each other, but the decision had been made. 

"Sydney, as an answer to you're question earlier, we'd like you to listen to something that was hand delivered to the SD-6 offices this morning" Jack spoke up, Sloane just sitting there leaning on his hand. 

Stretching over, he pressed a single button on the remote, and the room was filled with a sudden crackle of static. 

"This is a message to Arvin Sloane and the heads of SD-6" the voice was scrambled, with an added reverb in the background. "We are holding your agents, and at the moment, they are in good hands. Whether they remain that way is down to you."   
A pause. "We know the locations of every one of your sites around the world, and know you have a fortified listening and storage facility in Oman. In twenty-four hours of you receiving this message, we will attack the base, and eliminate anyone present. This will be your only forewarning of an assault by us. Cooperate with us, and we will be lenient, offend us or attempt to retaliate in any form, and you will face our wrath." 

"SD-9 was the first SD cell to fall, and will not be the last. You have been warned" 

Static resumed, and the message ended, but no-one moved. 

A million questions appeared in Sydney's head, but she just asked the first two she thought of. "What do they mean 'cooperate'? Who are these people?" 

"Valid questions, but the answer is, we don't know - neither who they are, nor what they mean by cooperate. The message gave no way of contacting them, so we are at a disadvantage" 

Sydney waved her father off nonchalantly. "What do they mean 'attack'? A repeat of what happened at SD-9?" 

No-one answered, simply because they'd already given her the answer - they didn't know.   
For once SD-6, with all its intelligence assets had been caught out by something they even didn't realise existed. 

The silence forced her to change her tactics somewhat. "Okay, so what's going on - am I being sent to Oman?" 

"No, we've already called in reinforcements from our allies to bolster the base's defence - there's nothing else we can do from here" Jack responded. 

Sydney looked down, shut out by her own father. 

"Sydney, I'd like you to report to Dryer down in Psych to ID this man - we need to find out as much as we can about him and his organisation" 

Nodding, Sydney got up, and began to walk to the door. "And Sydney, its good to have you back in one piece" Sloane said, gratefully, getting a nod and a smile in response, before Sydney walked down the hall, towards Psych and her unscheduled meeting with Karl Dryer. 


	13. Meteor

**Ghosts **

** Meteor**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Well, after a little bit (read nearly 3 months) of a break, I've finally gotten round to updating the story, and its definitely got a way to go yet, and although I'm still rewriting a few of the bits I've already done, most of it is nearly there.  
  
I hope you enjoy this chapter  
_ - Spyder_

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

**Somewhere in London**

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed twice, as the owner of the office walked in fresh from lunch, strolling straight towards his desk. 

"Nice lunch?" a voice asked from behind 

"Yes, thank you Mr Huntingdon, a very filling ploughman's actually." He grinned as he sat down. "Waiting long?" 

"No sir, not at all" the Commander replied, void of any feeling. 

"Very well" the elderly man said, tapping a few keys on his keyboard. "You'll be glad to know that the tape was delivered to SD-6 right on time, and the safe house previously occupied by Agents Bristow, Vaughn and Weiss has been cleared and cleaned by Foxtrot unit - every item found is currently with analysis before it goes to technical services" 

"That was fast" 

"Yes, anyway, on with the briefing" the lights cut out and the big plasma screen was activated, showing a live image from an orbiting satellite. "How well do you know Oman, Mr Huntingdon?" 

"Well enough to know that there is a moderately sized Alliance listening station, why do you ask?" 

"Simple, you're going to Oman with Alpha unit - they're currently in Turkey running commando raids on known terrorist hideouts." The screen immediately showed a picture of a makeshift military base, enhanced by thermochemical optics and computer analysis identifying each person in the base and the surrounding area, marking them with a red dot. 

"What's the plan?" Huntingdon asked 

"This is a simple recovery incursion - infiltrate the enemy base, gain access to their central network, upload a virus, download an inventory list and get out. We'll hit the base with a tactical strike as you leave" 

"Tactical strike? How?" 

"A Meteor unit will hit the base with four deep ground penetrating cruise missiles, a pair of Joint Stand Off Weapons (JSOW) and another pair of clustering missiles." 

"That's a lot of firepower - I take it you don't want to leave anything left?" 

"Would you leave anything left Commander?" 

The answer was simple enough not to need a reply. 

"Take what equipment you need from the armoury - Alpha are already equipped for combat, but take them a few decent MRE's and some more ammunition. They probably need a little 'pick me up' after what they've done" 

"Yes sir, anything else?" 

"No commander, good luck" 

**Somewhere in Oman several hours later**

The SD-6 listening post in Oman was a lot bigger than it sounded. 

Hidden away in the dunes of the Omani Desert, the base comprised of a reinforced concrete listening post and command bunker, a large mechanics bay with adjoining power plant, a helipad, and a rather small barracks to support the permanent staff, which accounted for nearly everyone on site. 

Looking out over the complex, James 'Jim' Callaghan, a former US Army Ranger and base commander, thought nothing of the warning that came from Arvin Sloane earlier that day as he calmly flicked the stubbly cigarette into the desert sands down below. 

Using the railings to support him, Callaghan stretched up to his full height of six foot two, looking down across the well-lit base. 

Since the phone call earlier, he had, as requested, beefed up security somewhat, but didn't think that anything would, or could happen - they were threatened by rebel groups all the time, but none dare try to assault the base or they would be cut down like sheep to the slaughter. 

Although the numbers of security personnel here numbered less than fifty, they were all highly trained people, either with army or other combat backgrounds, and were all armed with a mixture of weapons, ranging form AK assault rifles, to SAW support weapons. 

Anyone who tried to get in here would be sorely mistaken. 

Turning to head back to the station, his footsteps crunched along the stoned surface of the roof, passing the massive communications antenna that stood out like a sore thumb. 

He'd taken no more than two steps, when he heard a barely audible crack in the night, stopping him in his tracks. Turning slowly, he could see nothing wrong, and after a few seconds dismissed it as paranoia. 

Probably one of the mechanics dropping or breaking something, he thought. 

Walking on, he trotted down the metal staircase, and into the main office planning room, where he was greeted by one of the night staff. 

"Greetings Sahib, how is the night?" the Arab asked, in heavily accented English   
"All is well Iman, how are your troops?" he replied, courteously nodding towards the Arab at the mention of his men. A custom he had learnt of the hard way, as the scar above his right ear showed.   
"They are well, slightly weary from the days trek, but they will survive"   
"Good, what extra security measures have you taken?"   
"We have increased the outer patrols to four men each, totalling sixteen men" the Arab replied, taking a sip of water from the plastic cup in his hand. "There are guards stationed in every building, as well as along section of fence - no-one will get in here tonight, you have my word Sahib"   
"And your word is all I need, Iman" Callaghan respectfully replied. 

Walking off, Callaghan knew while the Arabs were competent, he would have definitely preferred his own team of Rangers with him, but alas, it was something he could not have. He knew the CIA could not acknowledge its affiliation with SD-6 in any way. 

After a few minutes of wandering around the building, Callaghan found himself in the security station inside the base gazing at the wall of monitors showing every corner of the base - both internally and externally. 

Mechanics working on a jeep in the repair bay.   
A group of Arabic soldiers patrolling by the northern gate. 

Then something came up - a sentry missing from his post by the power station.   
Reaching for a radio on the desk in front, something on the monitor caught his eye.   
"Sir?" one of the technicians asked   
"Camera 4, can you zoom in on that?" he asked pointing to the foreign object on screen.   
"I'll try sir" the tech said, panning and zooming the camera in as much as possible. The screen flashed twice, and the tech sighed. "Sorry sir, but that's the best I can give you" 

Callaghan just stared at the image for a second, when he realised what the object was - a boot. 

Grabbing the radio as fast as he could, he held the unit up to his mouth, just in time for the power to fail, sending the underground room into complete darkness, as the ground shook slightly. 

Someone had taken out the power generators. 

The base plunged into complete darkness, as the world above him seemed to explode with gunfire. 

Screeching into the radio, Callaghan yelled into the mouth piece as loud as he could, but feared it was too late. "We're under attack, all units report in!" 

He clicked the 'talk' button off, and got nothing but static. 

Over in the corner, one of the technicians' flicked open a lighter, and the room was filled with a faint, orange glow. "Sir?"   
"Grab a weapon, and keep trying to raise anyone out there" Callaghan said, fumbling for the lighter in his pockets. 

Finding the lighter, he pulled it out just as a series of shots were heard directly above him.   
Everyone stopped for a moment, as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, accompanied by an angelic glow coming from a torch. 

The light grew louder, and so did the sound of the footsteps, as one of the technicians passed Callaghan a pistol, then knelt down by his desk, in the hope of affording some protection. 

It gave him none. 

Their assault was as swift as a falcon, as violent as a lion, and as cunning as a fox, turning off their flashlights before entering the room, destroying Callaghan's night vision. 

Kicking in the door, they flicked their flashlights back on, blinding everyone before the silenced cough of suppressed weapons fire took out the two technicians before they realised what was going on. 

Callaghan dived away, but wasn't fast enough - he was shot in the shoulder and went down hard, his gun skidding across the floor. 

The light died, as Callaghan blacked out momentarily. 

Pulling himself to his feet, he grunted as he felt the bullet hole in his shoulder burn like hell, trying hard to ignore it. 

Removing the lighter lighter, he flicked it open and walked over to where the technicians were, finding only their bodies - they'd been shot in the head with lethal accuracy, as brain and skull fragments were splattered across the walls and equipment, while their blood glittered from the orange light of the lighter. 

Callaghan very nearly hauled himself from the room, and up the four flights of darkened stairs onto the roof; the only sounds heard being the clang from his feet impacting the metal steps. 

Finally reaching the roof, he stumbled out the doorway tripping on the last step, as his face came down on the gravel hard, adding a few minor cuts to the gaping bullet wound to his shoulder. 

Picking himself up, Callaghan managed to reach the railings before looking up. 

He saw a single man, in desert camouflage running full pelt towards the fence.   
Callaghan tried to yell, but the words just gurgled in his throat, as he coughed up some blood. 

He watched the man jump up at the fence and clamber over it as if it was nothing, disappearing into the desert night almost as fast as he appeared. 

The he heard the high pitched whirr of a rocket motor, and knew it was the end. 

Callaghan watched as the world around him went blindingly bright white, feeling a burning sensation all over, moments before the world went red, and finally black. 

Back in the CIA command centre in Los Angeles, via a two-hundred and fifty mile orbit, Michael Vaughn watched in awe as the SD-6 listening post went from a series of concrete and steel buildings, back to the sand it was based on in a matter of seconds. 

A hard chill ran down his spine, as the black-and-white monitor showed him something scarier than death itself. He was in awe, and so was everyone else around him. 

There was nothing left of the base. 

Not even rubble. 


	14. Developments

**Ghosts **

** Developments**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Well, I've just seen season 2's ep 13, and I don't really know what to say apart from 'What the hell'?  
A potentially very good series cut short - it looks like this will be the last season of Alias, and to be honest, I think that is a bit of a foolish mistake - it could have run on a lot longer if planned out right, but alas, its happened so there's no going back, I can only hope that the scriptwriters know what they're doing.

On a sidenote, this chapter might seem very odd, as I got through half of it and had to stop due to 'real-life' issues, picking it up almost two weeks later, so sorry if it seems a little disjointed

- Enjoy  
Spyder 

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

"You have seen only a fraction of what we are capable of. Do not doubt our integrity or resolve. Failure to comply will result in consequential actions against your organisation. We will contact you with further instructions" 

The electronic voice clicked off, and once again, Sydney found herself in the main meeting room at SD-6, accompanied this time only by her father and Arvin Sloane. 

The latest message had arrived earlier this morning, after the SD-6 listening post in Oman had been completely annihilated, leaving no visible trace that it ever existed.   
The last satellite photo taken of the base showed a mixture of buildings and guards spread out, but nothing wrong, whereas ninety minutes later, the satellite scan simply showed a large crater of sand. 

There was not a single trace of the any of the buildings left. 

"Where do we stand now?" Sydney found herself asking, still staring at the few satellite images there were of the base. 

Her strategic question caught both men slightly off guard. 

"After our meeting last night, I made several calls to the various other SD cells around the world, regarding this group. None knew anything of them, but knew that whoever they were had taken down SD-9" Sloane said 

"However, when I spoke to Alain Bouchard, head of SD-2, he informed me of a document they picked up off a K-Directorate agent in Switzerland a few years ago. This document was at least thirty years old and dated back to the Cold War, but in it, a single reference was made to a group they call MI0, a group that the KGB suspected of running top secret black operations for NATO inside the Soviet Union. As far as we know, its existence was never proven" 

"NATO? Does that mean our government is involved?" Sydney made sure to pick the right words, less Sloane be let on to the fact that she knows the truth about SD-6. 

"At this point, we don't know, but we can't rule it out." 

"Given the documents age, and the vagueness of the report, we have to question the authenticity of the information in the document" Jack said, in defence of Sloane. 

Sydney looked at him warily, something else was coming. "What aren't you telling me?" she said, quizzing her father, who just looked very upset at her interruption. 

"Two hours ago, I contacted K-Directorate, and informed them that we have information we'd like to exchange. They want information on certain rebel factions within their organisation, and we want anything and everything they have that refers to MI0" Jacks words were clinically spoken like a true spy. 

"However, the response we received was not one we were anticipating" Jack said, letting Sloane take over 

"The response we received did regard documents on MI0, but were not from K-Directorate. They were from our old friend Mr David Sark, claiming he was willing to hand over the information we were after, unconditionally" 

"Unconditionally? Ok, that does not sound right" Sydney butted in 

"That's what we originally thought, but further communications has revealed that his organisation have had problems with this group in the past, claiming that it is mutually beneficial to both sides to work together in taking down this group" Jack chose his words carefully, trying hard not to show face in front of Sloane, who tossed a folder over to Sydney. 

"You're going to New York to rendezvous with Sark, to retrieve the information he has obtained. Given the ambiguity of this meet, you'll be accompanied by Security Sections alpha team, who'll be there to give backup" 

Opening the folder, Sydney removed a single typed sheet of paper with instructions on it, and a map of a park with several red circles marking certain points and area's, denoted with corresponding numbers. 

"Jack..." Sloane said, interrupting Sydney train of thought 

Taking the remote, Jack flicked the screens to a detailed overview of the park. "The plan is simple; you'll meet with Sark here, next to the fountain, in plain sight and under the cover of a sniper, as a precaution. They'll be situated on the rooftops here and here" as he spoke, the map zoomed out, and two of the surrounding buildings seemed to flash yellow.   
"There will be a pair of agents inside the park nearby, and four more within a safe distance, probably situated either in the park, or outside one of the cafés nearby" three more buildings flashed yellow, as a red circle appeared, centred on the fountain.   
"Since we don't want to take anything for granted, I'd like you to be armed as well, when you meet, just as a precaution." 

Sydney nodded, ignoring the look of wariness on her fathers face. 

"When do I leave?" 

"Tonight" 

**New York twenty-four hours later**

Given the rapid nature of her departure from Los Angeles, Sydney never got round to meeting with Vaughn for the counter mission, but somewhere along the line, the CIA had decided that with SD-6 under pressure from both the alliance and this foreign group, that they would pay no attention to their own agents, and they had guessed right. 

All of SD-6's intelligence assets were operating outside of the country, looking for any trace of any sort of activity possibly linked to MI0, and as such, it was relatively easy for a CIA computer expert to shuffle the seating arrangements around so that one Michael Vaughn would be able to sit next to a Sydney Bristow on flight UA843 from LAX to JFK International. 

On the flight over, Vaughn had explained to her what had happened to the base and to what her counter-mission was to be, as well as the backup plans "just to be sure", and now, it was time to put the plan into action. 

Looking down at her watch, Sydney strolled into the park in the general direction of her meeting point with Sark as the time ticked over to 10:00am. 

With a security section team as her backup, she wouldn't be able to talk directly to Vaughn or the CIA in any way, mean or form, since there would be the possibility that Security Section would pick up the transmission, and deal with her then and there. 

Instead, the CIA decided to simply rip the SD-6 feed coming from the wire in her jacket - it was safe, secure and with no way of detecting it, they couldn't be discovered. 

As she walked towards the fountain, Sydney was able to spot the short pallid figure of Sark immediately. 

Dressed down, he wore a pair of wrap-around sunglasses and a black trenchcoat, done up all the way, despite the humidity in the air. There was a single metal briefcase by his feet, probably containing the files. 

Sydney made her way to the fountain, and towards Sark, who just stood there smiling at her.   
"Ah, Ms Bristow, how wonderful to see you again" he said in a pleasant tone, not fooling anyone. 

"Hello Sark" was Sydney's monotonous response. 

He tilted his head downwards slightly, to see over his glasses. "No pleasantries Ms Bristow?" 

"None this time" Sydney responded, folding her arms across her chest. 

"Ah, very well" he responded "I take it you have Mr Sloane's response" 

"Yes, I take it those are the files" she said, gesturing to the briefcase in his hand. 

"That is correct." He paused "I take it you have a backup team" 

She knew the game he was playing, but decided to go along anyway. "Yes, I'll presume you didn't come alone either". 

Sark nodded, as a voice came over her earpiece. 'Understood Bluebird, we've got you covered' 

"Friends?" Sark said, noticing Sydney turning her head away from him slightly 

Sydney just glared at Sark - both of them knew that any sudden movements would be cause for the other side to fire, resulting in a high casualty count due to the openness of their transaction. 

Both waited in silence for a minute, just glaring at each other until Sydney turned her head away slightly, the voice on the other end inaudible to Sark.   
"Understood" Sydney said monotonously. "Alright Sark, lets get this over and done with and part amicably, the less time I spend around you the better for you" 

Taken slightly aback by her words, Sark's face turned sour. "As you wish". 

Putting the case on the floor between them, Sark removed his sunglasses, as Sydney removed her phone, just as it began to ring. 

With arm outstretched, and palm open, Sydney was impassive as Sark took it from her hand, answering it on the fourth ring. 

Even they both knew who it was, Sark spoke first. 

"Hello"   
"Hello Mr Sark" Despite the distance between Los Angeles and New York, Sloane's voice was crystal clear on the other end. "This is simply to say that we agree that this new threat should be dealt with and that a temporary truce should be called upon, so that we can properly deal with this problem"   
Sark smiled, but said nothing. He could almost hear Arvin Sloane fuming at the other end.   
"However, this is only a temporary truce. Once we have the situation sorted, do not expect anything from us in the future."   
"Thank you Mr Sloane, I understand perfectly" he said, before the line went dead. 

Expectedly, the phone call ended as abruptly as it began, and Sark smiled lowering the phone from his ear. 

As he handed back the little device, Sark just looked as Sydney stood there as impassively as she could, but Sark could see how unhappy she was about the situation, almost to a point where it was bordering with pure, unadulterated rage. 

"Thank you" he said, in a joyous voice just to annoy her. Predictably Sydney snatched the phone back rather violently. 

Looking up at the sun smugly, Sark decided he wanted to see how far her restraint would go. "Its amazing really, that we two are not really that much unalike, yet we're both so very, very different" he said, in his clipped Oxbridge accent. 

When she didn't answer, he shot a look at her. "No?" 

Slowly, and carefully, she spoke. "No" 

"I suppose you are right really, each man is his, or in your case, her own" Sark smiled again. 

"Is there a point to this?" She asked 

Sark shook his head, still smiling. "Where have some of the old ways gone, eh Sydney? We're two professionals doing our respective jobs, but where has the banter gone?" 

Sydney just scowled at Sark. 

"I suppose out with the old, in with the new. Very impersonal, though, don't you think?" 

Looking down, Sydney dropped her sunglasses slight as she spoke. "Sark, I'm not here to debate the pleasantries of the world with you, and you are beginning to stretch my patience, so I suggest we get this done quickly" 

"Of course" he said, dutifully, picking up the case. 

Slowly Sydney offered her hand for the case, but something caught Sark's attention, and he peered over her shoulder. 

"Sark" Sydney said, bringing him back to reality. 

Lowering his head slightly, Sark was consumed in thought for a second as he tried to recognise the face. 

Moments passed, and Sydney's patience thinned close to breaking point. 

About to take the case off him, Sark looked up again, and peered over her shoulder once more. 

Immediately his eyes went wide and his face paled as he realised who he was looking at. 

Noticing the change in Sark's complexion, Sydney turned around, and suddenly realised who he was looking at. 


	15. Meeting

**Ghosts **

**Meeting **

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Well, new chapter up, and more to come, I hope you've all enjoyed the ride so far.  
  
At this point, I've got quite a few ideas as to where I want this to go, and how it can get there, but at the moment, its just choosing the best route is the annoying thing.  
Hope you enjoy this chapter, and keep reviewing (thanks a lot to Gabs)  
  
_- Spyder_

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

Sydney gasped. 

It was him.

The man in the black trenchcoat.

Just standing there, hands in pockets, smiling at them.

Their collective minds raced, neither able to look away from him.  
A large knot formed in Sydney's stomach, as her heart rate soared.

Why was he there? Why was he just standing there? Did he know why they were there? What was going on here?

Sark gulped audibly, before turning facing Sydney, eyes not moving off the figure in front of him. "I believe this may be cause of concern"

His words didn't register with Sydney, until he thrust the briefcase into her hand, as her hand reacted by taking it from him. The rest of her body didn't move.

Over her radio, all Sydney could hear was someone shouting her codename down the radio. 'Bluebird, what's going on? Do you read Bluebird?'

Sark was about to say something to Sydney, when the figure they were watching began to move.

The earpiece began spewing voices from the security section agents moving around, relaying information to their commander. 'Sniper one, no target' 'Sniper two, no target - damned tree's!' 'Can someone find out what the -'

His sentence never finished as static filled the air.

Watching intently, Sydney and Sark stared at the figure as he mechanically looked left and right, before raising a fist to shoulder height, then lowered it to his side.

Sark managed to turn away, looking at Sydney. "We have to leave" he said, backing off a few steps, before he realised she wasn't moving.  
He ran back and grabbed her arm, tugging slightly in the direction he was previously going.

"What?" she said almost ethereally, not taking her eyes off the figure in front of her.  
Stepping in front of her, Sark looked back for a second, noticing that Sydney was in shock, and did the only thing he could think of.

He squeezed her arm hard until she let out an 'ow'.

If looks could kill, when she looked down at him, he would have probably died in a rather horrible and most likely extremely painful way.

"We have to get out of here, now!" he said, pushing on her arm slightly, "Lets go!"

Finally, Sydney began moving, slowly backing off at first, before turning and walking which slowly became a half jog.

Behind them, neither saw as the man in the black trenchcoat pulled raised his fist once again to shoulder height, only to move it forward, palm outstretched, as he began to jog in their direction.

Onlookers would have wondered what he was doing, but to a select few in the park, the message was clear.

With Sark in the lead, the pair entered a very open section of the park, and quickly slowed to a walk, eyes darting all over, looking for possible threats.

As they passed a couple playing Frisbee with their dog, Sydney noticed a pair of figures jogging determinedly towards them.

They were both wearing the same clothes.

"Two on the right" she said, trying hard not to make it obvious that she had seen them.  
"We've got two on the left and" Sark flicked a glance over his shoulder to look behind him "one coming from behind"  
"I hope you've got an escape plan" Sydney asked concernedly, as the five men edged closer.  
"Lucky you that I do" he said, removing a pair of car keys from his pocket, stepping up the pace a little.

The pair began to jog for the exit as Sydney felt something burn across her hand, immediately dropping the case. Sark looked at her, and then at her hand as a friction burn appeared above her knuckles, bleeding slightly.  
Sydney slowed and ran back for the case, only to have the handle shot off as she picked it up.

Someone didn't want her to have it.

"Leave it" Sark yelled to her "We've got copies of the data; we've got to get out of here!"

Disgruntled, Sydney left the case and ran back to keep up with Sark, looking over her shoulder at the case noticing that the man that was following them started to sprint towards them.

As they neared an exit to the park, Sydney briefly looked over her shoulder at her pursuers who were now about 100 metres away, in full sprint towards them.  
"If you've got a plan, now's the time to do something" she yelled, as they hurriedly left the park, and crossed the street.

Dodging cars as they crossed, Sark pressed a button on his car keys, and the grey BMW 5-series in front of them flashed its lights twice, just as he made it to the driver's door.  
Sydney barely made it into the passenger seat before Sark took off like a madman, cutting up a taxi as he pulled out.

Looking out the back, Sydney couldn't see anyone following them, and let out a sigh.

"I take it you two know each other" Sark said, as he jumped a red light.  
"Wha?"  
"The man back there, the one who was staring at us"  
Sydney shook her head slightly. "Uh... yes, he was one of the people that took the SD-6 team when we were in England"  
"Ah right"  
"What about you"  
"I know him - He sabotaged a number of our operations in Europe and personally assaulted me a few times. Whoever he is, he's very good. We've never been able to catch him"  
Sydney looked at Sark confused. "How long have you been looking for him?"

Sark didn't immediately answer as the entire vehicle swerved violently to the left, as he pulled down onto another street. Even though she was strapped in by her seat-belt Sydney grabbed the hand anchor above the door to keep her steady. Sark's driving could use improvement, she thought to herself.

"About ten years" Sark replied to her previous question. "But he's been working against my employer for about fifteen years".  
"And you've never been able to catch him?"  
"Not once".

Sydney's eyes went wide in disbelief. She thought that she was pretty good, and she'd only been caught a handful of times, but from the start, whoever this person is, must have been very good to have not been caught at all.

"We've even hired assassins to kill him, who have failed every time. He seems to have gotten to them a lot faster than they could have gotten to him."

Sark stopped as he hit a red light, and immediately her earpiece stopped spewing static, and a single voice was heard '-bluebird, come in bluebird. Agent Bristow, I don't know if you can hear this, but they've gotten to everyone. I'm the only one alive, and if you're out there somewhere find somewhere to hide and stay there. If you can there's a flight leaving for LA- What the hell?! Who...' A pair of high pitched gunshots were heard and Sydney turned quickly towards Sark - he'd obviously not heard anything, then the static resumed.

The light went green, and Sark sped off, oblivious to the fact that Sydney had just heard a repeat of what happened in England.

In her mind, the emotional bank she'd built up was near bursting point and she knew that when it did, it would not be pretty.

She knew what to do.

**Somewhere in London**

Back in the office, the elderly gentleman sat in his chair leaning, watching the screen at the far end of his desk as it showed, live, the assault in New York happen.

They watched as the video feed switched to that coming from Commander Huntingdon, as he saw the pair run out of the park and towards the BMW parked on the opposite side of the street.

Picking up the case, his voice came clear over the speakers around the room.

"Command, I have the package, am returning to recovery point to await pickup"  
"Copy that Black Wraith" one of the support staff said "proceed to recovery point bravo and await retrieval. Shadow team confirm tracking of target vehicle"  
"Command, Shadow One, tracking target signal to plus/minus four millimetres; signal strength is clear at 9.4"  
"Confirmed Shadow One. Command to all Ghosts. On mission end, proceed to recovery points and await extraction - do not, repeat, Do Not wait around - proceed straight to recovery points"

"Mute Radio chatter" the elderly man said, and the radio chatter died. Turning to face the rest of the people in the room, he steepled his hands as he spoke. "Comments?"

Everyone shook their heads. "None sir" one of them said.

"Good when will they arrive home?"  
"Providing they all make it to the recovery points, under four hours" one of the onlookers said  
"Fine. Write up what reports you want to make, and add them to the system, I'll review them when I have time. Dismissed"  
Dutifully, the group stood up, and left, a few nodding in the direction of the elderly man, who just sat in his seat, contemplating their next few moves, disturbed by an expected telephone call.

"It's me"  
"And?"  
"The information is all there - it's not much, and it's all at least 30 years old, so it provides no immediate threat to us, but it should be dealt with anyway"  
"I concur, what are you going to do"  
"Since you might want to read over some of the information, I'll bring it back with me, and we can go from there"  
"I understand, when will you be back?"  
"In about 3 hours - we're just boarding Concorde now"  
"Alright" he said, looking at the clock on the wall "see you at nine"

The line went dead, and the elderly man leaned back in his chair, and slowly drifted off to sleep.  



	16. PsyOps

**Ghosts **

**PsyOps **

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
Wow - been a long time since I last updated this story, so sorry for the wait!

Now, for all of you that wanted some Syd and Vaughn, here you go. Its not much, but it definitely shows how far a man is willing to go for his woman.

**Time frame:**  
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.

* * *

"Well?"  
"Well what?"  
"Did you get the message?"  
"Yes Jack I got the message"  
"And" 

Sloane hesitated a moment before answering - they'd been talking for over an hour now, and neither man showed any signs of letting up.

"The request is denied"

"What?!" Jack boomed

"Sydney is currently the highest placed agent at SD-6 that doesn't know the truth. Once we've eliminated this problem, she can take a month off"

Jack knew what he meant and just laughed at the statement. "With McCullagh I presume"

Sloane just looked down, gritting his teeth firmly.

"Sydney's starting to burn out - both of us can see the signs, and if she doesn't have at least a few days to get her head together she'll burn out permanently and be no use to either of us"

"Dammit, I don't care what she needs" Sloane blurted out, face red with rage "we need to fix this problem and fix it quickly - the alliance"

Jack slammed his knuckles down on Sloane's desk and cut him off. "I don't care about the alliance; I only care about the welfare of my daughter".  
Both men knew they needed to cool off, so Jack immediately turned away and walked to the other end of the room - he knew that if he didn't keep his anger in check, he might just end up killing Arvin where he sat.

After a few minutes of silence, Jack had regained control. "Arvin, if you don't let her go for a few days, then you'll be tipping your hand to some of the other agents in this building and they might get suspicious"

"Security section can take care of them then" Arvin said, fuming in his seat

"What, all two hundred of them - security section would be outnumbered five to one, and who's to say that they would do as you asked?"  
Jack finally turned towards Sloane, and walked over to the desk.

Leaning forward slightly, Jack said, in a quiet, composed manner "Let her go, just for a few days, then we can get back on track. If the alliance has a problem with it, just tell them to send in their own agents and see what happens."

While Sloane contemplated the offer, Jack poured two drinks for them, making sure to put Arvin's right in his line of sight, before quickly downing his own.

Sloane finally gave in. "Fine" he yelled "she can have three days off, but after that I need her back up to her usual self, working harder than she did before."

Grinning however faintly at the victory, Jack simply put the glass down and turned to leave.

As he got to the door, Sloane spoke up again. "Jack"  
"Yes?"  
"Thank you for watching my back"

Jack simply nodded before leaving, immediately making a beeline towards his own office.

**U-stor Self Storage warehouse**

They'd been sat there in silence for over an hour now, her just looking at the floor, not moving an inch, while he was just watching her, his face contorted with concern.

When she'd arrived, Sydney had collapsed into him, passing out momentarily under the emotional weight as the dam in her mind began to crack, as she was nearing the absolute limit of her mental endurance.

She looked up, to find herself safely cradled in his arms before letting go, as the dam burst and Sydney began to openly cry under the weight of recent events.  
As she began to think about what happened, she just sobbed even more, and he just hugged her tighter in an effort to help her, even though he knew this was a battle only she could fight, but he had ever confidence she would win.

After half an hour, she stopped crying, and the pair just stood there in silence until his phone rang.

Easing her over, and into one of the seats, Vaughn turned to Sydney and looked her right in the eye as he spoke. "Sydney, I'm here, don't worry, nothing can hurt you - I just I just need to get this, ok?"

She just nodded, smiling weakly.

"Vaughn" he said, answering the call.  
"Nine rings, jesus, what's going on out there?" it was Eric and his usual smart assed comments.  
"Sydney's here, and she's in a bad way"  
"How bad?"  
"Very bad"  
"Are you"  
"Yeah"  
"Alright, I'll tell Devlin that you're not going to be there"  
"Thanks Eric"  
"I'll chat to Martha, and have her cancel everything else, yeah?"  
"Yeah Eric" Vaughn said, turning to Sydney who now had her head in her hands, sobbing every few seconds "and thanks. Look, I gotta go" and he hung up, making sure to turn the phone off before putting it back in his pocket.

Vaughn walked up to her, and calmly put his jacket over her shoulders before taking a seat next to her, making sure to talk to her all the while, comforting her as much as he could in an almost desperate attempt to make sure she wouldn't break down permanently.

There they had sat for another few minutes before they broke off, leading to where they were now.

As he looked down at his watch, she looked up at him.  
  
"I don't think I don't think I can take this much more Vaughn" she said, between sobs  
"I know Sydney, I know, just hang in there for a while longer ok?" he replied, as she sobbed some more.

On the table adjacent to them, her phone began to ring, and they both looked up at it.

Vaughn walked over, and tentatively picked it up - On the screen it said 'Dad'.

"It's your father, I think" he offered her the phone "I think you should answer it"

Shaking slightly, Sydney reached out for the phone, and just held it in her hand for a second or two before deciding to answer it.  
"He... Hello?" she said, trying hard to cover up her emotions.  
"Hello Sydney" it was her fathers' stoic voice "I'm just calling to let you know that Sloane has given you three days off from work"  
Sydney almost burst out with tears again, but managed to hold them back just a little.  
"Thank you dad" she said, her voice tingeing with emotion.  
"Not a problem sweetheart, now you get some rest, ok"  
"Will do, bye"  
"Bye"

Sydney just looked up at him; eye's wide and puffy, as she spoke. "I've got three days off" was all she managed before sobbing again, falling off to the side, into his arms, dropping the phone to the floor.

As she fell forward, Vaughn was fast enough to catch her, and push her back into the chair, making her as comfy as possible, before dropping to a squat. "Thank god" he said, under his breath, before he rose up and made a phone call.

**Somewhere in London**

Sat in the stylishly decorated conference room, all twelve seats were filled with the respective heads of department, with the elderly man at the head of the table, and Mr Huntingdon at the foot.

They'd been there for what seemed like an age now, but in reality, they had barely been there five hours, discussing and planning the next few steps to be taken against SD-6, and now, the meeting was coming to a close.  
There was only two more items to discuss, and both were of major importance to Commander Huntingdon and the continuation of the mission.

"Is that all we have to add on that subject?" the elderly man asked  
"What about the Psych-Op?" Commander Huntingdon said, bluntly  
"What do you mean?"  
"How are we going to proceed with the Psych-Op?"  
"Dr Williams?" the elderly man said, motioning for one of heads to lean forward.  
"At this point, if our intelligence is correct, and has been reported correctly, we're having the desired effect on the targets" Dr Williams responded  
"Which is?" Huntingdon asked  
"Mental instability, emotional overload, limited ability to think coherently, the usual"  
"Will it work?"   
Looking down before answering, the Psychological Operation officer turned towards him "Under the right conditions, its usual effectiveness is 3 to 7 days, but there have already been late phase results, so it has been a lot more effective than usual. Short answer, yes"  
"How long before the full effects are brought to bare?"  
"As soon as the package arrives, there will be the normal confusion, but with the added note we sent, it should have more than the desired effect"  
"And the end results?"  
"Projected end result is that Ms Bristow has a complete mental collapse, which in turn starts to erode away at the morale and mental capacity of her co-workers, especially Mr Jack Bristow, her father, and Mr Michael Vaughn, a co-worker."  
"And if it doesn't?" the elderly man asked  
"If it doesn't then we can arrange for something else to happen that will weight slightly heavier on them" the Psychological Operations officer replied with a grin.  



End file.
